


Bridegroom for Hire

by Tigresse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Deception, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Gay Sex, Guilt, Lies, M/M, Regret, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 72,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24933094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: A rich man needs a 'Pretend-Relationship' to secure his fortunes and inheritance. His 'hired' Bridegroom turns his world and his ideas upside down. Neither realizes how dangerous this game is till they start falling in love.(Story Completed)
Relationships: Jim Moriarty & Jim Moriarty's Mother, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 113
Kudos: 64





	1. An unusual demand

**Prologue**

“Are you sure ma’am?”

“Yes.”

The bespectacled lawyer still gave the ailing old woman a pleading glance and she noticed it immediately despite the sudden coughing fit she had. Taking a sip of water that the nurse offered her, she took a few deep breaths and said softly. “I haven’t become senile Mr. Holmes. Your father retired last year, otherwise he would have been the first person to advise me to do something like this. For the past forty years he has advised me, perhaps before you were even born…. Oh yes, he wasn’t even married then.” She wheezed a little and asked, “How’s your mum doing? She is a doctor, I remember that correct, right?”

“Yes, she is a psychiatrist,” Mycroft Holmes, the family attorney, spoke gently, “She has also semi-retired. She and daddy are embarking on a six month tour across the world.”

“Oh my, what an amazing idea…. And they are really doing it?”

“Yes. Daddy said he’s seventy now and mum’s sixty-eight. Perhaps the last chance for them to undertake something so taxing and adventurous. Afterwards, with co-morbidities, they might not be able to fulfil their longstanding dream of cruising around the Bahamas and treks in China, yoga in India and wildlife watching in the Australian outback, seeing the Machu Pichu in Peru and traveling across Russia in an old fashioned luxury railway carriage.”

“Very wise decision indeed. I wish I was twenty five years younger. But I am ninety-one now. A few days are left still, just pray my wish is fulfilled.”

Mycroft felt bad for her. Her overall health was failing and the doctors had given their answers, none of which were encouraging. She could live for six months or six years, there was no guarantee which one could be true. No major illnesses, but lots of lingering ones which were age-related and totally unavoidable. “They will come to visit you tomorrow. They won’t be leaving without a word with you. As for this will….. does he know? Does your grandson know?”

“Not yet,” she smiled feebly, “But I shall talk to him about it.”

“Yeah, that might be the right thing to do.”

“Thank you Mycroft.

“You are most welcome ma’am. Anything you need, just ask your assistant to give me a call. I shall visit you weekly anyways, not for work but to have a chat with you. You rest now. I’ll take your leave.”

***

**Chapter 1**

The tanned, suave and good looking man of forty shuffled through the papers, photographs and files while a man and a woman sat across the desk from him, waiting for his verdict. Minutes ticked by until three files were picked and laid out on the table neatly, the rest quickly pushed aside. A tall, thin, curly haired woman scurried into the room and, as per her boss’s instructions, cleared the table in a matter of seconds. Once she had left, the gentleman behind the desk responded. With a flourish of his right hand he said, “So these three. They are shortlisted. But I have to ask my client.”

“By all means please do ask him,” the man said, glancing at his female companion and then giving a greasy smile, “I can vouch for these boys, all three of them. Of course the final pick depends on how well one of them sits in the eyes of the client. I’d recommend…. I mean, we would recommend those two…. One of those two. The third one is a bit too smart at times and can be very mouthy! Anyway, your call! What excited me is that we gave you ten profiles and all three of your final shortlists are from our submissions. It makes us really happy and proud, Mr. Lestrade.”

“I don’t care about your happiness Phillip,” Greg Lestrade said curtly, “I only care about my client and whether one of these people will suit the purpose and carry through until the end, until my client has what he needs. Honestly, sincerely, truthfully. That’s how he should work. Remember, this man I am working for is not just a client but also a friend and I am taking a big risk doing this for him….. So, it anything goes wrong, take it from me in writing that I shall destroy your agency. I am an ex-cop and I have my contacts there, both you and Sally should know that by now.”

“Why would we even submit a resume unless we are sure of him?” Sally, the woman seated across the desk, quickly said, “These boys tick all the boxes, all the specifications you mentioned. They are exceptionally good looking, hungry and penniless, intelligent and ambitious and willing to take risks and ‘play’ the part.”

“Well, they will be paid very well. So they better ‘play’ the part to perfection.”

“May I recommend this one then…. This other guy…..”

“No Sally. I have made my choice. It must be a totally obscure, unknown person. This fellow works in the theater. It’s early days yet but a simple Google search will still show his results.”

Not that a ninety-one year old and mostly bedridden woman would search the net but she’s a clever person, she could have someone else doing that on her behalf. Nope, we can’t take known actors or people with established careers or those who have done similar tasks before. “I have made up my mind. The choice will be between these three.”

“Sure, sure,” Phillip said, elbowing Sally who was trying to make a point, “We are happy to help…. Aren’t we, Sally?”

The woman seemed uncomfortable but she quickly clued on and gave a bland, foolish smile. “Yes, yes, of course, it’s your decision…. We are happy to support, yes.” Phillip, or ‘Phil’ as he was called, nodded his head hard and smiled at Greg. “Could you wait outside while I call my client and speak with him,” Greg Lestrade said, pressing a button to remotely unlock the door to his office. He was looking keenly at the profiles and didn’t even give the two of them a glance as he made a gesture towards the now-wide-open open door, “It will be a Skype call and I am not sure he’d want others present when I show him the three shortlisted candidates and he makes the final choice.”

“Sure, sure, sure.”

As soon as they were outside, Sally grabbed Phil’s arm and said viciously, “Are you out of your mind Phil?”

“How was I supposed to know they will choose him?”

“What do you mean ‘how’? You should have simply not included his profile.”

“I was supposed to give them ten and I just didn’t have that many. This is a weird job and most of the people we employ don’t do weird jobs. They do odd ones. Even if someone agrees to try for the sake of money, eventually they would not get shortlisted by the client because they simply don’t make the cut. Now think about the twenty-five grand we will make from this simple exercise and shut your trap.”

“Yeah, I guess the end justifies the means. But you know how unpredictable he is and someone who doesn’t get along with his own family…..”

“He is not really the bridegroom Sal. He is a pretend-play actor in the drama, just fulfilling a role for a few days and for an astronomical sum of money. We don’t have to character-assassinate him at this point.”

“I am still not comfortable,” Sally said, “Whatever you say!”

***

“I thought so too,” Greg Lestrade smile approvingly, “Even I felt he would be the best of the lot. We need to do some extensive background research on him though, it seems he’s too good to be true. Whenever that happens I feel a little pinch in my bones and my gut.”

“Nah, no time for that. You can do that while we start the process. One week’s training and he comes over here to stay with us. No questions to be asked, none to be answered except for whatever we have discussed already. And make that non-declaration agreement iron-clad, so he doesn’t even talk about it.”

“Very well, goes without saying,” Greg replied, “I shall speak to you later then.” He ended the call and stared at the three photographs of the shortlisted candidate. Tall, willowy, with bright blue-green eyes and aquiline features, sharp high cheekbones and the perfect mouth and jawline, he was just what they needed. Handsome and yet with the guy next door appeal, not the typical gorgeous or traditionally handsome face one would spot from a mile away but when he was sufficiently closer one could get lost in those eyes. Elegant and suave in appearance, he looked naturally highborn and sophisticated, two things that worked enormously in his favor. One needn’t train him for too long. The educational qualifications were pretty good too. This kid had a degree in chemical engineering.

He called his assistant, “Send Phillip Andersen and Sally Donovan into my office.”

Moments later the two entered.

“It’s going to be William Sherlock Scott Bouffler.”

“WHAT?” The two exclaimed together.

Greg lowered his eyebrows, “What’s the shock factor all about? He is one of those names you submitted, didn’t you? Then why do you seem so taken aback?”

“N-No, nothing,” Phil quickly covered up, “I-I am, I mean we thought you might pick ‘Jonathan Ross’ or ‘Kingston Browne’. They are both older and more mature and are good looking and….”

“And dumb,” Greg Lestrade scoffed, “Neither is even a graduate. They work in places which would give them a rough edge and we don’t have time to smoothen them out. One has a dad who is in jail and the other still identifies as straight and calls himself gay for pay. Not to mention he has worked in the porn industry, even if it’s just two or three odd short films. This one is the best. Honestly, if I didn’t know he was an orphan and had no one in this world, I’d have thought he’s definitely from an educated, affluent and cultured family.”

Sally sighed. Phil quickly said, “As you wish Mr. Lestrade.”

“So here is the deal then. Twenty-five grand for you. You need to sign some legal documents and silence yourselves forever. This deal never happened. You have never been here. You do not know this fellow named William. That’s why you get an upfront payment and nothing is left pending from our side. Once the candidate is introduced to me, we take over and he won’t contact you, neither will you contact him. Is that understood? If there are any questions ask now or agree to stay quiet forever.”

“We agree to stay quiet forever.”

***

Greg observed the young man for almost three hours. He had planted cameras in the scruffy little flat he lived in, where he conducted experiments, played violin, wrote extensively, practiced martial arts and taught students online. He was a recluse in all terms and purposes, the only people he met freely and regularly was a neighborhood gal named Molly who brought him groceries and helped him with cleaning and cooking. Then there was a friend named Victor, who visited him twice a week and they conducted experiments, drank beer and laughed together. The third person allowed in any time was the landlady, Mrs. Hudson, who brought him morning tea and breakfast and did his laundry.

“A bit eccentric, anti-social, doesn’t care for traditions, he is perfect, there couldn’t be a better person than him to do this,” he grinned, “And he needs the money. Money will give him the freedom he desires. He wants to travel the world, start his own work, become an inventor.”

On screen the good-looking young man had begun to strip. Feeling a strange stirring in his groin, Greg quickly turned off the cameras and decided to make the all-important phone call. He asked Phil Andersen to send this shortlisted candidate to a certain address, an address that could never be traced back to him. He had to be careful. While this deal was going to net him half a million, it was also tricky and the contract was so air-tight he was literally walking around eggshells all the time. One mistake and he could be sued. One wrong move and this fellow could get into trouble, bringing his house down as well.

No, he wasn’t going to let that happen. His duty ended with introducing the candidate to the client and ensuring he reached the property on time and, most importantly, alone and untailed.

An hour and half later the same young man walked in through his door. “Come in,” he said.

“I am already in,” the youngster replied cockily.

“Alright, take a seat then. Be comfortable.”

“What kind of a job is it?”

“I shall explain everything to you, do take a seat first and have some tea. I got some ready for us. Here, have some Will. May I call you Will?”

“The name’s Sherlock,” the young man said, voice steady and confident, “I don’t go by William, so just call me Sherlock.”   
  


“It’s an uncommon name…..”

“I have heard that before, several times, now shall we discuss the job opportunity please?” Sherlock asked, sipping the tea but only after he had sniffed, checked under the cup and turned the rim round and round and blown on the surface. Greg suppressed a grin and said, “Well, it is a contract for six months minimum and up to a year at the most. You will be paid a hundred grand upfront, thirty grand per month and a bumper bonus of half a million if you finish in six months. In case you finish in a year you will still be paid the same sum, a total of one million by the end of the contract. Of course if the employer is happy he may reward you, a brand new car, some extra cash, an all-expenses paid trip somewhere etc.”

“May I ask why this generosity?”

“Because a lot is at stake.”

“For him?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I will tell you as much as you need to know but you must assure me first that you understand your position here. You have signed legal contracts which are so water-tight that there’s no way out of jail if even half a clause is broken or tampered with. It’s my duty to protect the interests of my client but I don’t wish for any harm to come to you either, hence I am checking with you.”

“I understand. I can’t discuss this with anyone else. No one else can be involved. I have to give proofs and evidence where needed, whenever needed and must agree for any amount of surveillance and background searches and investigations to be done, if the employer wishes.”

“Good boy. So, you’re twenty two years old? Twenty-three?”

“Twenty four in two months.”

“Ah I see. And you have done your chemical engineering from one of the best institutes in the country. You even got placed through campus recruitments at Castrol, with a fat salary and enviable perks, yet you declined them and chose to rough it out instead for the past year.”

“Yeah. I don’t want to work for anyone. I want to work for myself, do things my way, have the autonomy that’s so easily taken away by a salary.”

“That is true,” Greg Lestrade gave him a curious look, “But this is also a salaried job and you will have to perform exactly what the employer asks of you. You can’t come back home without his permission nor go anywhere without a chaperone, you will even have to sleep with him if he asks that of you. How did you agree to this?”

“Simple,” Sherlock shrugged, “The money is great. With this money I shall travel the world for a month, then start my own work, buy a small flat of my own and live rent and mortgage free, buy a car that is better than a scrapheap that I drive right now. The best thing is, this is on limited time and even during this one year or six months I can continue my experiments and do my own thing. I suppose there will be plenty of time.”

“Oh yes, there surely will be,” Greg replied, “So allow me to introduce my client and the work you are expected to do. My client is a multi-billionaire. He’s no ordinary billionaire who barely touches the thousand million mark or a seasonal billionaire whose net worth is tied only in stocks and if the stock market crashes, so does his wealth. He comes from old money, landed gentries, traditional companies and investments and art and jewelry collections to rival the Queen’s. But, unlike the Queen, this man can sell anything he owns. There isn’t any ‘no-sale’ clause anywhere. I won’t go into specifics but he has huge shares in 118 companies, investments that are safe and fool-proof with progressive, profitable benefits, thirty properties across the world, over 600 precious and priceless paintings and sculptures and jewels worth over a billion. Total net worth, way more than twenty billion and growng.”

Sherlock remained strangely detached. The only reaction Greg got was a mild twitch of his eyebrows. “The sorts who shit currency huh?”

“Sherlock, that rough tongue and those sarcastic words need to go.”

“Ooops, sorry!”

“No worries. So yeah, he is a very wealthy man. What’s best is that his wealth is secure, stable and growing.”

“And he has to do little to maintain or grow it.”

“Yes, he’s the lucky one that way. His grandfather and father ensured for seven generations people could splurge as much as they wish and still remain billionaires. But this man doesn’t splurge, nor does he show off his wealth. He has his quirks and whims, like many rich folks do, and one of them happens to be ‘getting married’ so his ailing old grandmother can have her last wish fulfilled before she passes.”

“Whoa,” Sherlock grinned, “Sly guy. I am the _hired bridegroom_!”

“Works to everyone’s benefit!” Greg shrugged, “Let’s share the profits, not judge the practice.”


	2. Dr. John Hamish Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reclusive eccentric billionaire

“What are you doing?”

Dr. John Hamish Watson frowned the moment the lemon-haired woman stepped forward with a vanity case. Behind her the cameraman also focused his camera, set on the tripod stand, towards the thirty four year old billionaire.

The production manager and the host/interviewer quickly exchanged uncomfortable glances. John was notoriously private and didn’t like to be photographed, whether it was at parties or get-togethers or charity events, interviews or random clicks while he was out and about doing normal things. The interview, scheduled at their studio, was over. But the photo-shoot, as they had half-expected, was well and truly interrupted. “Um…. We are not a tabloid really, we are the number one business magazine in the country,” said the interviewer hesitantly, “And after such a huge step in the direction of creating more jobs and a big philanthropic act for the poor, it would be a matter of inspiration for others to see the man who’s been doing so many good things behind the scenes.”

“Johan,” John said with a shake of his head, “Please continue to be your intelligent self, as you were during the interview. Why make comments that have no sense of logic whatsoever! True philanthropy is where the person behind it isn’t shown, only the act is shown and felt. I am not part of this generation of limelight seeking parasites who put everything on social media but don’t have the heart to wish their own grandparents on their birthdays. I am not your typical socialite and I don’t care where your magazine stands in rankings. I told you I am granting only the interview and that is done. At the most you can make this a podcast, period.”

“But we do need some photographs to go with the interview…..”

“My assistant will send you some. Use those and only those.”

“She did. But most of them are not yours.”

“They shouldn’t be Johan. The pics should be more of the children and elderly who need help and who have received help, not me grinning and looking smug and showing off my expensive suits and the house I live in. Nope.”

“Alright Dr. Watson.”

“Thank you for understanding. Good day to you.”

Accompanied by his two bodyguards, his ever-present assistant Mary and his PR advisor and business manager Mike Stamford, the wealthy, influential man left the studio with a snooty expression on his face and a confident step that always made him look taller than his modest five feet seven inches frame.

“Hnnnnn,” one of the production assistants, a wavy brown haired pretty Jane, smiled and looked at the departing interviewee through heart eyes, “How I wish……”

  
“I suggest you don’t,” Johan said with a wry grin, “You won’t get anything but disappointment. The man has no grace or tact or success in his personal life.”

She gave him a startled look. The production manager, Manuel, was similarly surprised. Johan lit a cigarette and smirked, “I do have some sources and I have been in this line since 1990. I have seen those days when his father, Alfred Hess Watson was in charge and before him his father, aka John’s grandfather and his grand uncle were in charge. There is a reason why he doesn’t like the spotlight. Many years ago, nearly twenty five years ago I suppose, he was thrust into the spotlight for very unflattering reasons. His father had a scandal, much like his grand uncle used to have and that triggered a series of events in the family. Marriages broke up, lots of talk in the press, people accusing each other, silences needed to be bought, children sent away to high-security boarding schools to keep them away from this mess.”

“Oh my God…”

“You’re kidding.”

“I kid you not.”

“Whoa! It’s like you start hating caviar because you’ve had too much caviar.”

“It is more like ‘caviar keeps giving him food poisoning’. Some time ago he was engaged, maybe about five years ago, and to a woman. No one ever got to know who she was and what she looked like. Suddenly the engagement was off, the woman had disappeared and John made no comments. None whatsoever.”

“Strange,” the brunette said, “He would have women tripping over their feet to be introduced to him. He is cute, you know. Besides a billionaire, he’s also a doctor. What a combination!”

“Women can continue to trip over their feet,” Johan snickered, “It’s a man who will eventually succeed in taking that empty spot on the bed.”

The production assistant let out a colorful expletive and stormed off, muttering about how unfair life was. Laughter ensued in the studio and everyone had a chuckle at her expense. Soon they received the photographs from John Watson’s office and it turned out to be exactly what they had anticipated. One mug shot of him, one long distance shot of him with a well-known social worker and several pics of the community service he did or charities he promoted, new business ideas and logos.

None of those ideas, events or charity pics included him in the frame.

***

“Is he ready?”

Greg’s face appeared on the large screen set on one side of John’s enormous desk in his even-bigger home office. There were at least three screens, two desktops and a laptop open on his polished desk, not to mention two mobile phones and a landline. “Mary you can go,” John said gently to his assistant who was in the room with him, “I will have to talk to Gregory.”

“Sure thing boss,” the blond woman got up and waved at the man on screen, “Hey Greg, how are you doing!” Greg politely nodded and waved back with a smile, “Hello Mary, all good here, good to see you.” She picked up her laptop and phone and added, “I guess I shall see you sometime soon. See you.” John patiently waited until she had left the home office and asked the question again, this time in greater detail. “Is he ready yet? It’s been close to three weeks and to begin with I was not sure if one month s enough. Be honest with me, does he need a fortnight more? We could easily give him that grace and favor extension considering he’s just a kid after all.”

“Hardly.”

“Explain.”

“Very bright button. One of the brightest I have known or met. Picked things up in a jiffy and the best thing of all, he doesn’t talk too much or ask unnecessary questions. Keeps to himself, professional, knows what he will gain from this and won’t create any impediments.”

“Wow! Sounds like something that’s too good to be true. I saw his photograph, he’s quite good looking as well. Despite the long nose and the too close-set eyes. Something very captivating about him, I have to give him that.”

“John….?”

“Yes? Any doubts Greg? You can ask me. We have been friends for a long time.”

“Therefore, as your trusted associate and decade long friend, I have something to tell you. He is a kindred and free spirit. Very bohemian and very liberal. Tons of wit and sarcasm. Know a lot, is very well-read. The sort of person who’s not just pleasant on the eye but also the soul, moods and brain. As you rightly used the word ‘captivating’. If I am permitted to say something here, rather, ask you something…..”

John’s voice grew stern, “I wish you didn’t.”

Greg sighed, “Fair enough. It’s your life. Just in case you change your mind, do let me know.”

“I sure would. So he will be here end of this week?”

“Better than that. He will be here this weekend. Saturday morning I shall bring him over to your estate. If that’s okay with you too.”

***

Greg stared bemusedly at his companion while he drove to the Watson property which was almost thirty miles off the city’s outer limits. Instead of talking to him or staring ahead at the picturesque scenery around them, Sherlock kept turning back to give the car following them multiple looks of concern and anxiety. He was close to biting his nails. Half way through to the estate they were headed to, the older man had to intervene. “Sherlock, no need to worry at all. The man driving your car will treat it like his own kid, gently and tenderly and without any rough-handling. They will reach the destination in one piece, I promise you. You’ll get a crick in the neck turning constantly like that.”

“It’s a pretty old car and I don’t want it hurt, it needs nurturing and care,” Sherlock said, not realizing the comical element, “I will need it again when I am done with this job. I can’t afford to lose it you know.”

Greg shrugged, “As I said, the car will be fine. We could have transported it but you insisted that it should be right before your eyes all the time, hence someone had to drive it. I could have let you drive it too but right now your life and wellbeing is a bit too precious. The last thing I wanted was any silly accident on the way….. alright, just to put some context, if you have an emotional attachment to the car then I understand. Otherwise, if it’s purely for utility purposes of taking you from one place to the other, I think you can very well afford to lose this one and buy a better one. You have a hundred grand in the bank, already.”

Sherlock shook his head, “Wasteful expenditure. I need that money for other reasons.”

“Between you and me, you could renegotiate the terms in a few months, ask for a bit more.”

“Aren’t you on his side?”

  
“Always. But that doesn’t mean I let you miss out on an opportunity to make some more dough. See, for him it’s peanuts. At any given point of time he would have at least five million in the house, hard cash, plus loose diamonds and trinkets that are worth double that amount. Giving you two or three hundred more is no problem at all, provided you remain honest at all times, sincere in your duties and don’t get nosy.” 

“I’ve heard that enough times in the past three weeks to hear it in my head, at night. I get it Greg. No need to go on repeat mode.”

“Just doing my job….. Okay, here we are.”

Sherlock looked a bit perplexed. “He owns a hamlet? I mean, what is this property actually? I thought it would be a mansion and vast, expansive grounds.”

“We have been driving through those vast, expansive grounds for the past seven or eight minutes,” Greg smiled broadly and Sherlock’s eyes widened, “He owns about three hundred acres of land here, including fifty-acre woods, two orchards, a manmade lake with fishing capabilities, a solar plant for energy harvesting, barns and granaries for storage, a meat factory and a cheese plant, that huge greenhouse that helps grow all kinds of fruits and vegetables and herbs through the year. There are vegetable patches and cornfields, wheat and rice, quinoa and lentils. Those country style cottages and semidetached homes you see, they belong to his workers and there are dozens of them living here, on this estate. Foremen of his ranch, horse trainers, chauffeurs, groundskeepers, ranch hands, factory workers and the like.”

“He’s created quite a kingdom of his own,” Sherlock murmured. He was beginning to slowly realize how enormous his task was and how important his ‘client’ was.

“He is a king alright. He even has his own zoo, he has deer and sheep grazing on the grounds, he has tree houses and outhouses bigger than most people’s city homes and of course three swimming pools. One indoor and temperature controlled, one swimming pond which is all natural and a third one which is Olympic sized and has a manmade waterfall feeding it.”

“How many cars?” Sherlock asked as they entered the inner sanctum of the property, which was cordoned off by a stone wall, electric fencing, dozens of cameras and security devices and a large automated gate that was manned 24/7 by a group of armed men and dogs.

“Sixty six.”

“Horses?”

“Stud farm is that side, with a full length galloping track.”

“How many?”

“Umm…. I think about fifty, if I am not wrong. But he has limited horses, only about ten. The rest are usually bred and sold, for a juicy profit.”

“He makes money off this estate?”

“Enough to maintain it, pay wages, taxes. He might be a very rich but he doesn’t waste a single penny nor does he like dipping into his savings and investments. He’s very astute and wise with money and very choosy and selective about the people he allows into his inner circle.”

“Greg do you think I can do this?” Sherlock gave him a pointed look as the car meandered through the long driveway, flanked by beautifully landscaped lawns and gardens on both sides, gazebos, fountains and koi ponds, with pretty walkway bridges over them.

“I don’t think, I know,” Greg patted him on the back, “Just trust your gut instincts, use your ready wit, observe, analyze and then decide what you should do and…. Above all, please make sure you never let John down. He has trust issues, severe trust issues. Once he feels betrayed, he will never recover again and your assignment and payments will be in jeopardy.”

The cars drew in under the huge portico on which there was a beautiful terrace with potted plants, canopies and patio furniture. Sherlock would have looked on in awe at it had it not been for Greg introducing him to the staff. There were twenty of them, starting from the valet/butler and head housekeeper to a team if cooks, cleaners, errands boys and girls, gardeners, grounds keepers and even the estate’s own and dedicated plumber and electrician. Sherlock maintained an absolutely straight face as he was introduced as the ‘master’s’ fiancé and gracefully accepted the warm welcome extended towards him by the group of retainers who were immediately on their toes to tend to every need of his.

“Here is Gretel,” a plump, rosy-cheeked, redheaded woman in her forties was introduced to him by Greg, “She will be your domestic help. Anything you need, you only have to tell her. Of course there is Eckhart, the butler, someone who has served here for thirty years and John trusts him a 100% at all times.”

“Happy to be of any help sir, anytime you want,” the butler, who was in his late fifties and had a regal air about him, took a small bow.

“The mansion has a hundred rooms Sherlock,” Greg explained, “Gretel will give you the grand tour on Monday, when John is busy with his work. Just remember, Dame Rosalie Watson, John’s grandmother, lives on the western wing with her doctor, nurse and two attendants. She also has a companion there, a lady named Elizabeth Smallwood. Much younger than her, she was a great friend of John’s late mother so Rosalie is very close to her, still. She is widowed and lives with Rosalie, on this property.”

“Alright.”

“Other than that it’s just John and now of course there is you.”

“Sure.”

“And there is Mary Watson and Mike Stamford. Mary is John’s assistant/secretary and Mike is his PR advisor and estate and personal affairs manager. I handle mostly business and resourcing work for John, besides being one of the privileged few who occasionally has a drink with him.”

“Great.”

“There’s Mary.”

A smiley, slim, blond woman with bright eyes and a spring in her step came out on to the porch and greeted Sherlock very warmly. “Hello Sherlock, welcome to Happy Valley Estate. On behalf of John Watson, I am glad to help you settle down here and start your new life. Greg, he wants to talk to you first. I shall show Sherlock the library and study in the meantime.”

***

The library turned out to be huge, almost like a mini-public library. It occupied one part of the enormous hall dedicated for it, on the eastern wing of the first floor. Walls, standalone shelves with aisles between them and cushy seats kept here and there so people could sit and read the preface or the first chapter of the book, it was incredibly well designed and stocked. There were also quite a few lightweight ladders to reach the upper shelves. Three steps up from the library area was a small reading area with desks and chairs and lamp shapes. Two steps above that was John’s study, cordoned off by ornate partitions bought from the orient, to give him privacy. Besides a magnificent desk and ergonomic chair, plus three chairs on the other side, there was also a couch, two lounge chairs, tea table, a bay window and a seating arrangement right before it with colorful cushions and Venetian blinds.

“He uses it for interviews and meetings sometimes,” Mary explained, “This or the home office on the ground floor.” She gave him a curious look, “How do you like it so far?”

Not used to being impressed easily, nor addicted to wealth and grandeur to the point of being awed by such a display, the young man didn’t offer an exuberant response. “It’s okay,” Sherlock remarked noncommittally as he observed the books closely, taking a couple of them out to look through them. She seemed amused and chuckled, stepping closer to him and looking over his shoulder at the books he had picked. “Just okay Sherlock? This is one of the grandiose mansions in this country, it’s literally a mini-palace. I was also told you love books so I chose to bring you here first and foremost. Still, just okay?!!”

“It’s good,” Sherlock said, without batting an eyelid, “Money can buy some really awesome things. Like space, books, most of which are literally just for show.”

“Huh?”

“I can figure out whether they have been handled of late or not.”

“Oh, well…..”

“Ms. Morstan, Mr. Bouffler,” Gretel tapped politely on the door, “The master is calling for you.”

“Come on,” Mary said, “I’ll take you to him.”


	3. Settling into his role

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward interactions as the boys adjust to their new 'pretend' life together

John felt a strange flutter in his chest and a corresponding heat rise in his groins as Mary ushered Sherlock into the private parlor or den where he’d decided to meet the young man. Despite having gone through the dossier on Sherlock Bouffler several times, he found himself unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

He was beautiful.

More than beautiful, he was alluring. He had a natural, fresh charm that was lacking in most young people nowadays. He looked younger than his age and very wholesome, a pure and attractive youngster who seemed untainted by the cares and cynicism of the world around him or the various struggles he had obviously gone through. There was a quality of openness in him, especially the bright eyed looked in those blue-green orbs, that swept him off his feet. This hasn’t happened to me in years, perhaps never! What is it with this young man and the aura he holds? I am beginning to fall…. No, no, no, no, NO. Never walk down that path, never. This is a professional arrangement and should remain that way.

Unbeknownst to him, Sherlock was just as charmed by him as he was.

The young man had not been shown any details of his ‘employer’. No photos, no bio-data, nothing related to what he liked, preferred or disliked. He had Google searched him and seen a few pics but those hadn’t done any justice to this man.

Though he wasn’t very tall, his personality made him seem far taller, almost gargantuan. With honey blonde hairs and light brown eyes that sparkled with cleverness and a lively streak, he appeared far younger than his actual age of thirty four. Maybe late twenties, at the most. He wore clothes that were easily twice as expensive as all the possessions Sherlock owned and yet not showy or crass. There was class and elegance in everything about him, from his attire, body language, expressions, even the way he walked and stood. Suddenly he didn’t mind the clause in the contract that spoke of conjugal relations, subject to ‘John Watson’s’ wishes of course.

“John,” Mary introduced, “This is Sherlock. Sherlock, John.”

“Good morning,” Sherlock walked up and extended a hand.

John took it and shook it. He has a firm grip, brisk movements. Not some slow, dependent chap with little between his two ears. Good choice. “Pleased to meet you finally,” he said in a firm, low voice, “You can call me John. Later we can come up with a nickname as well, to sound real.”

Sherlock felt like asking ‘You mean to make it seem plausible that we are in a relationship, where people give ‘nick’s to each other’, but he decided not to. _No rush. Questions could be asked later, all in good time._ “Yes, sure Mr. Watson…. I mean, John.”

He pronounced the word as ‘Jawn’ and John’s eyes sparkled with a feral quality that only Sherlock noticed. He felt a shiver run down his spine. Heat spread behind his ears and he felt stripped by the subsequent lustful glance John gave. But that look came and went before the younger man could even grasp it properly and he filed it away for a later thought, even suspecting if he had really seen ‘things’ correct.

“Only two people would know what’s the deal and agreement here,” John said in a crisp, businesslike manner, “Gregory my friend and Mary, whom I trust completely. Aside from me, if you want to talk to someone, about this arrangement or anything personal, these two will do.”

Sherlock nodded. There was nothing to ask or say here. He liked Mary, found her quite pleasant, intelligent and clued in. He would have hated to have to yap with someone who was an airhead. “You have got your first payment, the signing amount, right?” John asked, not looking at Sherlock anymore and fidgeting with the edge of a paper in the dossier before him. When Sherlock answered in the affirmative, John glanced at Mary who promptly grabbed Greg Lestrade by the elbow, “I think we should let them talk and get to know each other. You will be leaving tomorrow morning so plenty of time to catch up with John in the evening or so. For now, how about I organize your payment.”

“Um…. Sherlock, will you be okay?” Greg hesitated.

“If I was not, then I shouldn’t even be here,” Sherlock answered with his usual cocky confidence.

“I like that, a hint of ego and arrogance to a pretty face and charming disposition, like the perfect seasoning on a gourmet dish,” John said with a smug grin, “Good job Greg. As Mary said, please collect your payment and get a bite to eat. I need some time alone with Sher-lock.”

“Call me Sherl,” Sherlock said, “Or Shezza.”

“How about Lockie?”

“NO….. I mean, not that, please.”

John blinked at the sudden sharp tone but didn’t really try to probe or poke. “Very well,” he replied, “Sherl it will be or maybe something else… we can always discuss. You two best be on your way and Sherl, please follow me. We will talk on the terrace. Want some Iced tea?”

***

“Why me?”

John gave him a fond look which made a warm feeling spread in Sherlock’s chest. “What do you think the reason might be?”

Sherlock accepted the challenge, sipping his Iced Tea as he stared at the beautiful garden and grounds flushed with summer colors and sunshine. “You wanted someone who needed money but was not greedy for it, didn’t negotiate and wouldn’t go back on his words or grab. You didn’t want someone pretentious and who talks to much and yet street smart and clever, enough to pick things up on the fly and with minimum guidance. And finally, you are fond of beautiful things and your way of judging beauty is something that’s on the surface but with deep roots that go all the way to the brain and soul.”

“Whoa,” John waggled his brows, “That’s some observation.”

Sherlock was usually quite different to praise but somehow John’s words made him blush and flush and feel quite warm and fuzzy. He couldn’t stop the grin from breaking through. John reached out and almost touched his face before withdrawing his hand, almost awkwardly. “I-I am sorry,” he said, misreading Sherlock’s expression and assuming it was alarm at being touched, whereas in reality it was just disappointment that John had taken his hand back, “I know I should give you more time. I hope you have read the contract and all clauses carefully and agree to the thirtieth one, the one which says I could have sexual relations with you provided I can prove my health checks have come out clean and the records are as recent as the past week’s.”

“Is sex such a big deal?” Sherlock shrugged casually.

John’s eyes darkened, “I don’t sleep with just anyone….”

“Neither do I. But with the amount of investigations you have done on me, do we need to be so extra cautious. I am clean. I got tested three days ago.”

“Nope, it’s not your health or disease-free status that’s holding me back…. I want you to be comfortable first. Be familiar, be okay with the person that I am.”

His smile, usually a naughty, impish one, suddenly seemed a bit shy and something sighed in Sherlock’s heart. “I think I am okay already,” he murmured.

“I still want you to take your time,” John said, “We will share a room because we need to make this seem real, seem genuine. So, in order to know each other better, how about we cycle around the property or do you want to do some rowing on the lake?”

“I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Go on.”

“Can we take the forklift truck, that small one? I always wanted to drive one. Farm machinery fascinates me, a lot actually.”

John gave him a look of pleasant surprise, “Then we have found one thing in common already. I enjoy riding and driving farm machinery too. My granddad used to take me on rides on tractors, diggers, snow ploughs. Come on, it’s a simple ask and I have an easy answer. Yes, we can.”

“You sound like Bob the Builder,” Sherlock snickered.

John found himself smiling from memories of his childhood. He loved Bob the Builder cartoons very much. The farm machinery, the characters, the naughty scarecrow Spud, all those stories and afternoons spent in his nursery in the company of his mother, watching cartoons, came back to him. When was the last time he had been reminded of those days? Perhaps more than two decades ago! He gave Sherlock a curious glance as he led him out of the mansion and down the driveway path to where a forklift truck stood beside a lawn, ready to carry out bales and bales of grass that had been freshly mowed. The groundskeeper, seeing the master there, quickly ran to get the machine out of the way.

“No, wait, no need to do that,” John stopped him, “We’ll take it out of the garden and to the outer ranch area. Where do these go?”

“S-Sir, to the b-barn….”

“Fair enough. I’ll drive it there.”

“But sir…..”

“Don’t worry, I know the way.”

Sherlock felt a surge of naughtiness take over and he quipped, “In case your staff feels it’s too unusual to see you do their work or that His Highness can’t drive a teeny weeny forklift, then I can come to his rescue. I wanna drive this, that’s what I wanted to do anyways.”

John appreciated the humor, “Very well then, be my guest.”

Sherlock sat behind the wheel and John took his place beside him. Moments later the younger man drove out of the foregrounds of the mansion at breakneck speed, narrowly getting through the gate that was closing down after letting a delivery truck out. The security team shrieked and scrambled to re-open the door and John ducked his head, fearful of being crushed, when Sherlock’s sparkling laughter brought his cheery mood back.

“See, I drove us out in one piece!!!”

John patted Sherlock on the back, “Well done, especially that stunt you pulled by driving us through the closing gate doors. It was indeed touch and go.”

“Are you happy doing this?” Sherlock asked curiously, surprised to see John enjoying himself so much, “Or am I being a bundle of trouble on my very first day here?”

“No trouble at all,” John said over the noise of the engine, his hairs flying wild in the air, “Thanks for reminding me to have a bit of fun sometimes.”

***

The rest of the day and most of the evening passed uneventfully. But there were several things that made the green-eyed youngster slack jawed in awe. Sherlock realized that living on this estate and in this palatial house was no less than enjoying a stay in a premium five-star hotel. The lunch and dinner served there were all seven course meals. There were six refrigerators in the galley. The chef in the kitchen actually took orders and whipped up whatever was asked of her. He really didn’t have to lift a finger, all his work was done for him at the mere twitch and snap of two fingers.

Greg and Mary seemed very pleased that he and John got along very well. The valet was very polite and attentive, Sherlock’s personal attendant was eager to help, all the rest of the staff maintained a distance close enough for them to answer any call for service but far enough to give their employer and his guests and friends the privacy they required.

Around ten pm, when everyone finally retired to their bedrooms, Sherlock followed John to their master bedroom, a room which was bigger than his entire flat. Along with the master closet, dressing area and en-suite bathroom, it was bigger than the entire floor of the house his parents owned. No, he wasn’t going to think about them or about the past…. Nope, he had to move on. He smiled at John a bit too wide and found the older man similarly uncomfortable. John avoided any eye contact and cleared his throat, “I… um, I’ll use the bathroom first.”

“Sure.”

Sherlock felt a bit awkward and stiff for the first time. He wasn’t used to sharing a bed, forget a bedroom, and it suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know his ‘employer’ very well. A few hours spent together was fairly enjoyable but not long enough to qualify them as friends. It seemed as if he was sharing his private space with a stranger and then there was the expectation of sex, of physical intimacy, which didn’t quite seem to be welcome at that point.

He literally jumped when John came out of the bathroom. In a comical twist, they both spoke at the very same time. “I think I’ll go in now.” “You can use the bathroom now.”

John laughed, seeing Sherlock squirming. “Don’t worry. I am not going to ask for sex tonight. tonight we just get used to sleeping next to each other.”

“If you don’t snore I don’t see a problem with that, really,” Sherlock answered, feeling relieved by that statement. It also made him respect the man a lot more. He wasn’t a horndog, at least. 

When Sherlock got into bed, he realized he didn’t have much to worry. The bed was huge, at least four people could sleep on it without knees and elbows knocking. When John came to bed too, there was at least six feet distance between them even if they didn’t lie on the absolute edge of the bed.

“I could sleep on the love-seat by the window or the couch in the anteroom, if you’re not comfortable,” John said hesitantly, sitting up suddenly.

Sherlock rolled to his side to face John, pulling the blanket right up to his ear. His eyes sparkled like jewels and John automatically lay back down, mesmerized. ‘That arse’. “I am your employee sir, not your guest. You don’t have to step back to make me comfortable. In case you want to take the bed alone and want me to move to the couch or love seat or even that nice long divan in the master-closet, I will be glad to do so. In any case it’s a bit weird for me to sleep in such a huge bed and on such a soft mattress, not to mention with all my clothes on……” He stopped with a hiccup, realizing only once he had spoken that he’d made a really weird and embarrassing comment.

John suppressed a chuckle.

“Come on, have you never done that?”

“Never.”

“Not even when you slept with someone?”

“Nope. I usually don’t let them sleep in the same room, forget the same bed. If I am in their house I just leave afterwards.”

“Wow….. You really like your space, right?” Sherlock raised his brows, “But I do see why! Honestly speaking, any normal person will get pretty scared in a house as huge as this but you walk around it like the king of his casa. Fifty bedrooms, ten reception rooms, fifteen dens and parlors, three kitchens, ballroom, banquet hall, dining room, breakfast room, tea room, servant room, private chapel, private theater, private gym, study, library, five home offices, attic, basements, what not! It’s like a maze.”

“It takes people almost a week to just find their way around,” John said. There was no conceit in his voice, just plain facts being stated.

“Hmmm…!!!”

“Though I have to say it’s not that huge nor that overwhelming. You just have to get used to it, that’s all.”

Sherlock yawned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. John noticed that and on an impulse he reached out and smoothed his palm over Sherlock’s forehead, pushing the hairs back. He had been thirsting to do that ever since he had laid his eyes on the younger man that morning. It was a vast improvement from his photograph, even though the photograph had been enticing and appealing enough.

_But the real person was so much better, sexier and desirable._

Sherlock registered the touch but didn’t really react. He didn’t have the strength or wakefulness to do so. It had been an early start to the day and, due to his habits of sleeping late, he hadn’t really hit the sack early the night before. Coupled with all the excitement and frolic of the day, the long drive and the galivant around the ranch, he suddenly found his eyelids weighing down heavily. He yawned again, feebly putting his palm over his mouth to cover it. “I-I am sorry…..” Sherlock rubbed his eyes, unaware of how cute he looked and how John’s eyes had been fixated on the slight show of his pink tongue, “I don’t mean to be rude but I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.”

“I think it’s time to turn out the lights anyways, ten thirty already,” John said, feigning tiredness so Sherlock didn’t feel so mortified, “Good night Sherl.”

“G’night, Jawn.”

Sherlock literally fell asleep in a flash. Soon he was breathing shallow and even, like a small child. He lay very still, eyes closed and a single hand sticking out of the covers, clutching at the edge of the pillow. Beams of the room lights and moonlight fell across his sleeping form and John had to admit, quietly to himself, that while he hadn’t exactly chosen Sherlock for his looks, that attractive face and long, flowing, sexy form was definitely a bonus!

John looked on, not turning the light out immediately.

_No John, focus on the plan, on the real reason you hired him. Don’t get into the ‘emotional space’ now. It never pays. Remember the family curse. Remember what you’ve seen and what you’ve been told, what has been proved._

Images from the past, dug out by some festering memories he hadn’t been able to throw out of his mind, came back crawling to him. He withdrew his hand with a start. But, just as he was about to roll over to face the other side, something adorable happened.

To his surprise, the sleeping Sherlock reached out and grabbed his hand, not letting it go even though John tugged it backwards gently. Finally he gave up resisting and just let it be that way. It felt good to have that handhold over his wrist and after a few moments of deliberation, John slid his hand downwards and threaded their fingers together. That felt even better, more intimate. With a soft, sated sigh he closed his eyes and murmured his name the way Sherlock spoke it. “Jawn.”


	4. Burgeoning intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though there is attraction, there's also hesitation

“I’ll take your leave John,” Greg shook hands with his billionaire friend and client the next morning, around eight am. His car had been washed and brought under the portico, Sherlock’s car had been parked somewhere in the garage. The person who had driven Sherlock’s car the previous day had gone back already so Greg would drive back alone.

“What’s the hurry, we could at least have breakfast together,” John said, looking rather radiant and happy, “It’s a Sunday after all and the roads will be empty. You’ll be back in a jiffy. Breakfast is at nine, if you wait just one more hour….. what say?”

Greg smiled, “Well, I would have loved to but you know my work and what it involves. I don’t really have weekends, anytime a client asks for something it’s always urgent and must be done the same day. A film unit wants an old Packard car and also a hedgehog. Imagine that, a hedgehog and a Packard.” They both laughed and Greg looked up at the first floor of the mansion, looking slightly preoccupied. John noticed but didn’t say anything, waited for the other man to make a statement. After a little while Greg cleared his throat and asked, “He’s still asleep, is he?”

“Yeah. But that’s not what you wanted to ask, right?”

“Something else too. You know what it is.”

“No, it hasn’t happened yet.”

“He comes from a good family by the way. There is a history there.”

“I will resist digging in. You do your work and keep the data and facts ready. I won’t get involved unless I really have to.” John gave an indifferent glance. Greg lowered his voice, “Do you plan to tell him the truth at any point? My suggestion is that do that only when you are a 100% confident about him and have spent enough time reading him and his intentions. As I said, boy from a good background, has education, common sense and wit, but you are the sort of _wealthy_ that makes even the purest hearts get tainted with greed. We don’t want him to become a honeytrap.”

John blinked, “No, I am not so foolish.”

“Never said you are. Alright then, take care. I will keep calling, visit once a month. The usual.”

“The usual. Drive back safe!”

Despite the assurance he had just given and his inner vows to keep this as professional and distant as possible, as soon as the car was out of sight John literally hotfooted back to the bedroom to be with Sherlock.

***

“I am bored.”

John looked up from his work, “Bored?”

Clad in a pair of shorts and T shirt, running shoes on his feet and a cap over his head, the young man looked like a ripe citrus fruit, a total ‘dish’. Unfortunately he also looked very young, almost like a teenager, and John found himself squirming quietly. _Snatching the cradle it seems, hope this works and the cat doesn’t get out of the bag_. “Yes, bored,” Sherlock threw his arms up in the air, answering John’s leading question, “You are working, that too on a Sunday. There is no one else to talk to. I don’t know anyone here…..” He paused, sighed and shook his head, “Nah, forget it, I shouldn’t be complaining.” He turned on his heel and made to leave when John called out to him sternly. “Sherlock, come back and take a seat. I want to talk to you about this, please.”

Sherlock obediently sat down. “What is this tantrum all about?” John enquired, “You seem pretty hassled.”

“I dunno if I am allowed to do anything here,” Sherlock cribbed, “I wanted to cook but the chef asked me to name the delicacy and she will prepare it… then literally shooed me out of the kitchen. I wanted to do some gardening but the groundskeeper was hovering over me like a stench and I had to leave. I wanted to climb the ladder and get to the tree house but Gretel stopped me, saying I might break my neck. I wanted to try some speedboating but that’s apparently too dangerous, according to your butler.”

John smiled, “They’re following instructions.”

“Of boring me to death?”

“Nah. How can we do something as outrageous as that? I just wanted them to ensure your wellbeing and be there at your beck and call. Nothing else.”

“Hmmm, by doing that they’re effectively locking me down, choking me. I need to be out and about, do things I like to do.”

John nodded, “Understand. What would you like to do?”

“Dirt biking. Picnic beside the lake. Speedboating.”

John pointed at the work on his desk, “Very well then. We will do all of those things and you won’t have to do them alone. Give me an hour to finish here and we will both do all that you just mentioned, biking, picnic, speedboat, the whole nine yards. Happy now?”

“Yeah, very,” Sherlock’s eyes sparkled.

When he went out of the room, skipping and hopping and happy as a lark, John found himself smiling as well. He was still smiling when Mary walked into the home office, carrying a file and a couple of other items in her hands.

“I can’t believe I am jumping to conclusions right at the beginning and perhaps way too soon,” she began, giving him some papers to sign, “He’s only been here for a day and already I’m passing a verdict. But sometimes morning shows the day and we need to be optimistic, positive, hope for the best.” She gave John a blueprint to look at, “Here is the plan for the resort you wanted to build, the base work is done! So, as I was saying, after a long time I am seeing you in a lighthearted, cheery mood. He is good for you, like a breath of fresh air and an electric presence around the property. The retainers are on tenterhooks, to say the least.”

“And you?” John looked up at her and smiled.

She hesitated, a wistful smile on her face, “I don’t know. By all means I should be against this thing. But I understand your reasons and I don’t want to judge Sherlock’s either. Everyone does stuff for their own reasons, even if they don’t make sense to people around them.”

“Good. Good that you accepted it. It means you will be at peace.”

“I am the one who triggered this whole saga of pretense, didn’t I? I was the one who found out about the will being changed and…..”

“Shhhh.”

“Sorry. Okay, so shall I consider this plan approved?”

“Absolutely!!!”

“Oh by the way, Sherlock probably just saved your life,” Mary said in a tone of admiration, “The tree house, which you visit frequently, could have cost you your life or a few broken limbs at least. He tried to climb the ladder and then the rope bridge and detected spots which were so damaged that it wouldn’t have supported the weight of a fully grown man. Even I had no idea that thing needed so many repairs. He even spotted specific areas and told Eckhart to repair them right away.”

“And Eckhart chased him away.”

“I suppose for his safety.”

“Well, well, well,” John grinned, “Now it makes sense to me. Alright then, let me finish up here so I can fulfil my promise to him. Mary, will you ask the kitchen staff to prepare a picnic basket for us please and to get the bikes out. No, not the regular bikes or mountain bikes, ask him to get the quad bikes out for Sherl and I.”

“Very well John.”

***

Sherlock proved to be a catalyst to many of John’s hidden, suppressed and long-pending desires. With his bohemian outlook, ability to wisecrack at the drop of a hat, an enviable knowledge of several things under the sun, an adventure seeking side that didn’t mind a few risks and his near-unbelievable physical fitness and speed, he soon converted the circumspect, almost risk-shy John into someone who was willing to come out of his cocoon and explore life and its joys a little bit. ‘Laugh, love, live’ happened to be his motto and the older man was stunned to see the world through his eyes, giving him a wider perspective.

The way he maneuvered the speedboat and then the Jet ski, it gave John initial palpitations but soon he found himself letting his hair down and indulging in the frolic to quite an extent.

While they had their picnic lunch, under the huge oak tree by the lake, Sherlock spoke to him about what he wished to do with his life and talent. There were ideas he broached that the doctor in John lauded and marveled at, wondering how such a young person could be so wise and clued-in. There were plans he had which needed massive funding in the future, not even the salary he drew from John would do the trick there, but Sherlock was so sure he would eventually get there and arrange the funds or sponsorship that John was totally astounded.

“Don’t you feel at times that you might be getting a little ahead of yourself?” He asked.

Sherlock bit into a sausage and picked up the apple juice, “Nope. The only thing we should be wary of is staying behind our potential.”

John blinked, “What did you say?”

“I said…. Hey, what happened? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, you said something very similar to what my mother used to say. She was a very enterprising lady, very socially active, a philanthropist at heart, full of compassion and ideas and rarely ever relaxed and laidback. Energy was her main propellant, her quirky ideas the secondary engine she lived by and sometimes I struggled to keep up with the way she used to surge ahead with her plans and actions.”

“Is she….?”

“She died exactly eighteen years ago. When I was sixteen.”

“Oh, I am sorry. I wish I could offer the same sympathy that many do, like saying ‘she is in a better place’ and all that. But the truth is, we don’t know what happens when a person passes. For me, whatever I am able to do while I am still alive and breathing is what’s important. It’s the only life we lead and the only legacy we leave behind.”

John remembered moments from the past that made goosebumps rise to his flesh even now. Memories he had long buried but which he could suddenly see and experience again, thanks to Sherlock’s comment that had opened up a portal to his earlier days. His mum, smiling and loving and cheerful, the same day she died she had knitted him a really nice Christmas jumper, the Sunday roasts she used to cook, his elder sister Harriet and he setting the table under the cabana outside while their mum brought in the dishes, wine and mocktails. “When people pass away suddenly and unexpectedly, way before they have lived their lives,” he murmured, head bowed, “It’s really painful to even bring up those mentions, memories…..”

“People die only once. But by killing their legacy, memories they left behind, you are killing them every day, don’t you think?”

“Well, if you put it that way….”

“Jawn, we must celebrate the life always. The life that was, the life that was throbbing and vibrant and filled with a treasure trove of memories. Not mourn the death, not beyond the initial days after the person’s passing. It just makes the departed soul’s entire life…. Meaningless. That’s not quite right, don’t you think?”

“Will you come with me?”

“Mmmm, where?”

“In the mansion. We are done here, right?”

“Yeah, sure. We are done! And it’s getting a bit late too, almost four-thirty pm.”

“C’mon then!”

***

Sherlock stared in awe at the beautiful bedroom suite.

Swathed in a glorious pop of colors, bright oranges and radiant citrus greens, sunflower yellow, sky blue and powder pink, the suite seemed like a completely different world from the other rooms in the mansion.

It consisted of two portions, a section to entertain close friends and family and a bedroom section that was private and meant only for the former mistress of the house. The first section comprised of a sitting room, a half bath for the guests to use and a large covered balcony where a sit-out was arranged with patio furniture and a large swing. Sherlock could almost see some luncheons happening there, for small and intimate groups, the sounds of laughter and chatter echoing around the walls.

A small hallway connected to the interior chambers and they walked into the bedroom.

It was huge, just as large as John’s was, and had attached dressing room, spacious walk-in closet, en-suite bathroom and a store room as well! The whole place had the usual trappings of wealth and elegance but what stood out was the quirky décor, like wooden masks and hand shaped vases, and a wall filled with family photographs. Above the wall hung the lady’s photograph and one look at it confirmed what Sherlock had expected all along. She had been the soul of the party and the fizz to the champagne, with her departure this house had begun to lack both a soul and a fizz, the electric presence of someone who could hold it all together in spirit, not just the basics.

“I have no idea why I am showing you all this,” John sighed, “But I would like you to see more of her. We left everything the same way since her….. demise.”

Sherlock followed John into the master closet where he showed him the fur coats and minks, the shoes and gowns, the trinkets and handbags, watches etc. Everything was hung up or laid out, neatly and systematically, giving an impression that this was maintained on a regular basis.

“What’s there?” He asked.

“Store room, more of her personal assets are in there. Let’s look at that too.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

John shook his head, “Actually, I do want to. All these years I thought maybe I was afraid to rake up memories but what it really turned out to be is….. I was not too fond of the idea of coming in here alone. Your presence helps.”

They entered the room and _Sherlock’s jaw dropped._

It was her jewelry and art room. Aside from a wall spanning safe with a combination lock, there were locked glass showcases covering one half of the room and at least a dozen paintings and sculptures hung on the wall or placed on pedestals and shelved in the other half. The younger man realized that the paintings were quite pricey. He saw the signatures of artists, mostly from the fifties to the nineties, in the upper or lower corners of the canvas or glass.

John turned the lights on and the whole room was illuminated like fairyland.

Jewels, jewels everywhere. Diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphire, pearls, gold, platinum, precious metal and stones everywhere. The center piece was a beautiful necklace with nine types of gems studded in it, which glittered like King Solomon’s treasure. A heavy and ornate neck piece that was not just dazzling but also priceless.

“I don’t think I should be here,” Sherlock murmured, “This room holds beyond imagination perhaps. And I feel like an intruder, standing here and looking at the family heirlooms.”

“The real family heirlooms are with my grandmother,” John said, seemingly unperturbed by Sherlock’s comment or his presence in a room that was closed to all and accessible only by a multiple number and retina controlled security door that was more than a foot wide. “My gran has jewelry that’s valued at over five hundred million. Yeah, you heard that right. What my mother had was what my dad gave her and it’s probably around hundred and fifty million. Then there are those paintings and sculptures that she had bought, which we put away here and locked them. I am opening this room after several years, honestly. Usually Greg gets in here and cleans up the place by himself. The lawyer has visited it too, twice in the last two and half years, but only to take a stock of what’s here.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Sherlock asked, confused.

“That necklace, that’s worth about fifty million.”

“Jawn, why are you sharing all this with me?”

“Because,” John gently took his hand in his own, “Thanks to you, I have visited this place for he nice memories they hold for me and not dreading what nightmares they might bring on. My mum met a very violent end Sherlock. It wasn’t easy on me then, it’s not easy even now.”

“I can understand why,” Sherlock responded evenly, “But for a man like you, whatever I have observed so far, I am sure you will find ways to cope.”

“Cope yes, someday I have to…. with someone like you?”

“As your employee I am supposed to help you in any way I can.”

John shook his head, “How about as a friend?”

Something shifted between them and Sherlock felt it too, his heart leaping in his chest as he was pulled closer and then his face was cupped in hard, firm hands. But the touch was gentle, tender and affectionate and Sherlock felt drawn to the older man like a moth to flame. An alarm bell rang out in his mind but it was soon silenced as John rubbed his thumb over his lips and Sherlock found a soft moan escape through the parted buds. A blink, a heartbeat and their mouths came together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex doesn't happen in the next chapter. Trying to keep it real. Please bear with me!


	5. The Puppet Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets his maker.... the one who set him up for this 'role' of hired bridegroom.

It was a kiss unlike whatever either man had ever experienced before.

It started tentative, a soft peck on the lips, before he graduated to insistent rubbing of the soft flesh, until John’s mouth opened and he allowed Sherlock’s lips to touch his tongue. That triggered an immediate response from the younger man whose lips parted instantly and soon their tongues were entwined, rubbing and battling for dominance.

The kiss inevitably deepened, each man exploring every nook and cranny of the other’s mouth, soft moans escaping and mingling together, teeth clashing against each other, saliva swapping and stubbles rasping softly. Slowly the kiss became more than a kiss, it grew into a frenzy and John found himself seated on a chest, an old fashioned trunk, with Sherlock on his lap and their arms tightly wrapped around one another. They kissed on and on, taking millisecond breaks for a quick and gasping breath of oxygen before insistently tongue-kissing each other. Slowly all other parts of their bodies participated; matching tenting in their trousers, hands roaming all over each other’s back and the back of their heads, torsos undulating and colliding as they moved back and forth in passion.

John’s hands moved downwards and cupped the pert buttocks of the younger man, squeezing the mounds of flesh while Sherlock grabbed at the older man’s shoulders and arms, literally clinging to him for support and to keep himself upright while every part of his body seemed to have turned into jelly. He couldn’t think, he was lightheaded and dizzy. John was so aroused that the stupendous heat of his loins felt almost uncomfortable, as if there was a fire there that threatened to soon consume all of him.

The chest creaked and moved due to their movements but neither of them even bothered to give that a second thought. They had everything they wanted right there, in each other’s arms, the refuge neither man had sought but which they were reluctant to give up right now.

Sherlock groaned with pure pleasure when John pulled him flush against himself and the younger man’s clothed erection touched the blonde’s taut abs. Instantly Sherlock began to hump him, eager to relieve some pressure there.

John realized what was happening and for a fraction of a second he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to stop, take a step back, assess the sudden change in their situation and also ask Sherlock if he had overstepped his limits. But then his overheated groin touched the bottom of Sherlock’s bubble butt and before he knew it he was thrusting up too, grinding insistently against the young man who had become so pliant, so malleable in his arms.

His hands snuck under Sherlock’s shirt.

Sherlock’s legs wrapped around his middle and he rubbed his chest against John’s, seeking friction for this sensitive nipples.

“Mr. Watson sir…..?”

Someone was looking for John. They heard a door open, distant footsteps, then someone calling out again. The moment simply ended there and the whole mood and momentum vanished like a bubble in the air.

Sherlock got up and moved back like a torpedo, gasping and groaning as he put too much pressure on his right foot. He left John sitting on the chest in a stupefied position, eyes wide and jaw slack. The beautiful moment had transported him from his dull, drab world to one that had rainbows, purple hearts and rivers of milk, honey and chocolate. Suddenly he was back to the grey planes of the present, apart from Sherlock’s haloed presence in it. He cleared his throat. “What is it Mike?” He called out. The other man, who was somewhere in the bedroom suite but not in the inner sanctum yet, called out loudly, “Are you in there? You had an appointment, remember? You’re already ten minutes late!”

“Yes, of course, I’ll be there.”

“Need any help?”

“No, what would I need help for?”

“Okay, okay, just asking, that’s all.”

“I-I was… I am sorry,” John said, standing up and holding on to one of the five tiered showcases for support, “I don’t know what I was thinking….”

Sherlock stared at his feet, shocked by his own lapses and the liberties he had taken. But the biggest shock of them all was the way he had enjoyed the kiss, the intimacy, those touches. Cheeks red, his eyes watery, hairs disheveled, ears and groin overheated, he knew he looked like a pretty hot mess right now. Never one at a loss for words, he felt totally bereft of words at this moment.

_Not my fault. He started it. He pulled me into this._

_But I enjoyed it. I wanted it to go on._

“Shall I walk out with you?” He asked in a trembling voice.

“Yes, of course,” John said without hesitation, “You are supposed to be my partner, after all.”

Sherlock was about to leave when he realized the chest or trunk they were both seated on had opened up. He tried to quickly close it when John said, “This doesn’t belong to my mum. It was some junk kept in here that they…. Do me a favor please, can you take this to my…. Our bedroom? I don’t want to call the retainers in here and I would have gladly done this myself had I not been late for that appointment already.”

“No worries,” Sherlock picked it up, “I can do this. I got this. You go along and fulfil your commitment. I shall see you at dinner.”

***

Eventually Sherlock didn’t seem John for dinner. That night he fell asleep on his own, without John’s presence in the bed. When he woke up sometime late at night, he saw he was still alone in the room. A small handwritten note had been left next to his pillow and that said John had some work and would come to bed later. He should enjoy his rest. Not that Sherlock minded having the room and bed to himself but he also felt strangely alone without the presence of the other man next to him. _This was not supposed to happen, I was supposed to use this opportunity as a way to get ahead, not to miss someone I basically have no affinity with._

It took him a while to fall asleep again.

When he woke up the next day he saw John asleep on the couch by the window. It pulled out into a bed form and John had taken some additional pillows and blankets to cover himself. _He didn’t come to bed, wonder why!_ Sherlock went over and knelt next to the couch, staring into the other man’s sleeping face. John looked much younger in repose, as if a sheen of care and worries, tension and anxiety, uptightness and stiffness of demeanor, it was all gone and what was left behind was the man in his most natural, normal form. He reached out to touch John’s face but withdrew. He wasn’t very sure he should do that.

The day passed and John diligently avoided Sherlock.

Lunch alone, dinner alone, evening alone. Finally it was night time again, past ten, and Sherlock found himself sitting on the bed and watching something on the laptop John had given him. But he was only half-watching it. His mind was totally on John’s strangely evasive behavior.

Around midnight he couldn’t help it. He went to the study where he knew John was. The huge house was quiet and semi-dark, only the diffused, dimmed night lights on in the corridors and hallways, some rooms. There were no sounds, save from the steady hum of the airconditioning unit, that too a very feeble sound. Sherlock found his footsteps echoing, he could hear himself breathing, it was eerie.

He knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Sherlock went in and stood before the desk. John gave him a guarded look, “You’ve not slept?”

“Why are you avoiding me?”

John smiled a little, “That was blunt.”

Sherlock just made a helpless gesture with his arms, indicating that was just the way he was, honest and direct. John exhaled and leaned back in his chair, then motioned with his right hand for Sherlock to take a seat. When Sherlock did so, the blonde magically produced a flask from under his desk and two small mugs with cartoons imprinted on them. “Let’s have some hot cocoa,” the older man murmured, pouring out for both of them, “Chef Paula makes it very well. I keep an extra mug or two with me here, just in case I have to share….. Not that I have shared a cup of cocoa or a cup of anything with someone in several years, certainly not in my study or at this time of the night.”

Sherlock didn’t say a word.

“How is the cocoa?”

Sherlock nodded, didn’t say anything.

“Now you will punish me with silence?”

“I thought you didn’t want to hear my voice or see my face. Is it about what happened in the store room/ safe room last afternoon?”

John shook his head, “No, not really and yes, maybe. Okay, I won’t confuse you Sherl. You are both right and wrong. Yes, what happened in that room was a trigger and it made me reassess my situation, especially with you. But no, it’s not that I don’t want to see you, hear you, touch you….” He paused at the last bit, “Now I have said too much.”

Sherlock huffed, “Considering how clueless I still am about what’s in store for me, I say you speak way too little.”

“Fair point. See Sherlock, I am in a way… as they call it, damaged goods. Things have happened in my family that cast a big impact on me, which scarred me and scooped out parts of my soul. Those pieces will never be back with me again, my trust and faith will always remain punctured and I don’t think I can be the sort of normal, vivacious, responsive person you perhaps expect me to be.”

“I don’t get it Jawn. The clause said I would have sex with you on request. So that was only a kiss and nothing that broke rules or clauses. I didn’t mind. But it seems you did. Did I repulse you or was it something…. Something you regret?”

“Quite the contrary,” John said cautiously, “I do not regret anything at all. I actually enjoyed the kiss so much I can’t wait to kiss you again. But therein lies the problem.”

Sherlock felt a weird sensation in his stomach. _Oh shit, this was what he was afraid of_. “You have someone else in your life, or maybe you are straight or bi, you don’t want to….”

“No, no, no, no, not at all,” John shook his head hard, “Absolutely not. Sherlock, I don’t think I can explain things succinctly at this point. I need some time to sort things out in my head. But yeah, I agree and admit my behavior has been weird and I shouldn’t put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“Then can we go to bed now, together, I mean?” Sherlock asked, a pout forming on his lips and his voice scratchy and shaky, “The room is so big and empty and this place is so silent…. I feel something is under the bed or about to pop out of the closet or someone will get in through the window and grab me…..” He paused, “I am not a wuss, I am just not used to this kind of setup, something so huge and….” His voice dropped several notches as he slumped in his chair, cradling the half-finished cup of cocoa with both his hands, “I also miss you. I was worried you might not want to share a room with me after all. I know this sounds weird but that’s the way it is. That’s exactly the way it is.”

“No Sherl,” John turned off the light and got up, “Not weird at all.”

He came around the desk and took Sherlock’s hand, “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“Together? I won’t initiate anything, I won’t even touch…..”

“Don’t be silly. It’s all fine. We will sleep on the same side of the bed too. Come on.”

“But…..”

“You want me to change my mind?”

Sherlock blinked, then quickly retorted, “No!” Then he noticed the wry grin on John’s face and smiled back, “No,” he repeated more gently. He heaved a sigh of relief as they left the study together and kept mum till they reached the room. “Get into bed,” John said, “I’ll use the bathroom and join you shortly.”

Sherlock did just that and kept fiddling with the edge of the bed clothes until he felt the bed dip and the covers lift. He rolled over at that point and almost immediately felt an arm drape over him. Sighing out a huge breath of relief that he hadn’t even realized he was holding in, Sherlock curled up in John’s arms and smiled into the man’s chest.

“Goodnight baby boy.”

“Huhnn?”

“Yup, good night baby boy. Sleep tight!”

“Goodnight Jawn. And thank you!”

***

A few days passed like this and Sherlock found himself getting used to his new life, the new place he lived in and the man he lived with. While they didn’t kiss or have any other intimate moments again, they slept coiled up in bed every night and shared at least two meals a day. Sherlock had put the habit of watching travel shows and horror/thriller films in John and dragging him to the gym every day while John tutored Sherlock on the refined ways of living and talking and all the trappings brought on by an abundance of money. The young man turned out to be a super-quick learner and picked up names of wine, cheese, composers, painters, designer labels with equal aplomb.

The weekend arrived.

Sherlock had fallen asleep in John’s arms the night before, a raging erection bothering him as usual but something he had by now learned to live with. When he woke up on a Saturday morning to find John rousing him with a cup of tea, he sat up so fast that he almost knocked the tea out of John’s hands. He yelped, before steadying himself and rubbing his eyes. “Whoa,” John also jumped a bit, “What’s with the startling and thrashing and burning us both with a cup of hot Oolong huh? Sleepy head, it’s almost ten. Rise and shine, drink some tea and have a bite to eat. Then we are both going out.”

“Going where?”

“City center.”

“Why?”

“We’ll shop, eat out, watch a movie?”

“Theater or play instead?”

John looked pleasantly surprised, “You like theater too? What kind of plays?”

“Comedy, social satire, Whodunits!” Sherlock responded, leaning against John and sipping his tea. There was an easy familiarity and comfort they now shared with made him wonder exactly how quickly he had reached his goal. _No, there was another step to take after this, then…._

John’s voice brought him back to the present. “Unbelievable! I really like those too. I was just wondering if young people nowadays are still fond of plays and theater as much as they love movies with all those CGI and sound-play and 4D experience and all that.”

“I like this too,” Sherlock admitted, “But you have a private theater at home. We can watch movies anytime we want. If we’re going out then let’s watch a concert, performance or a play instead. That would make the day more special.”

“Done deal,” John got up and playfully smacked Sherlock’s rump, “Go shower and dress and come downstairs in about half an hour.”

***

Sherlock was almost cross-eyed from the day’s experience. John not only made him shop till he dropped, he spared no expenses when it came to the meal as well as front row premium tickets to a very popular and long-running comedic play at one of the leading theaters. Also present at the show was the Mayor and his wife and a television celeb and her partner. Sherlock stood beside John as they spoke to the celebrities and he was introduced as a friend and companion. Pleasantly surprised at how John openly showed him off, even acknowledging compliments that his ‘companion’ was very handsome, Sherlock felt the day getting better and better.

Until he had to excuse himself and go to the bathroom.

A small rash on his hip was bothering him, a typically mild overnight rash due to allergy, so he went into a closed booth and shut the door. Sherlock took a few minutes in adjusting his clothes and spraying a mild anti-allergen on the affected spot, then using the toilet and re-fixing his pants. But by the time he emerged, the whole scenario had changed. The semi-crowded men’s room was suddenly totally empty and quiet, save for one single figure standing at the door. Sherlock noticed that the door had been locked from inside, obviously by the same man. He frowned, “What did you do?”

“I put a ‘Out of Order’ signage outside the door.”

“How did you get everyone out.”

“I have ways, like taking out a gun and looking at it. They fled.”

“Are you crazy???”   
  


“Oh, you’re getting it only now?!”

Sherlock smiled and the other man turned, smiling just as broadly. Of medium height, slim build, with dark hairs and expressive eyes, a naughty and cute smile, he was the type of attractive man who had ‘Sinners Beware, I can make you sin more’ written as a tagline around his neck. He even grinned like a shark, knowing just how lethal his looks and persona were, just how helpless someone could be when confronted by him. “Good to see you,” he whispered ferally, “Sherlylocks!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware - No cute, sexy, not so dark Jim that you find in most of my stories. This Jim is a bastard and a master manipulator.


	6. Consummate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock zooms in on his target, like a fish on a string, controlled by....

The sounds of laughter and banter filled the room as Sherlock chased the smaller man around, trying to get his cell phone back, calling him by fond nicknames and mild expletives. “Come back here you rascal, you little spider, Jimmy, Jim-Jam, stop it, I have to go back, give it back to me, no, no, not the gun. What do I need a gun for?”

Jim Moriarty, the man in question, turned and jumped on to Sherlock who fell back against the tiled wall with a thud. “Beware,” Jim snickered, “You never know when these rich folks suddenly go all bipolar on you. People who’ve never struggled for a day in their lives, oddballs.”

“I dunno really Jim-Jim,” Sherlock kissed the other man’s forehead and inhaled his scent deeply. Vanilla, cinnamon, passionflower, mix of honey and maple! Fruity, fresh, masculine! He had missed this! “He doesn’t seem like an oddball to me,” he continued, stroking the raven dark tresses, “Yes, he has some issues from the past but then so do we all, don’t we? Sometimes we are able to rise above all those issues and be normal people, sometimes we can’t be so. He has his good and bad days but never did I see anything totally strange about him, let alone dangerous. He’s treated me like a real friend and companion, not as an employee or a bridegroom for hire. I was, honestly, expecting a lot worse when I went into this arrangement.”

Jim Moriarty suddenly escaped from his arms and quipped with a wicked look, “As long as you remember this is only an arrangement.”

Sherlock blinked, “It is. We both agreed. I didn’t go into this blind.”

“I mean,” said the smaller man, prowling around Sherlock in circles, “You sleep with him, live with him, enjoy his company, but don’t forget where you belong darling!!!”

“I haven’t even slept with him yet….”

“WHAT?”

Sherlock looked rather hurt and confused at that sudden, loud question. “Why are you so agitated?” He asked in a small voice, “Tell me James, why are you so eager to see your own man sleep with another one?”

The other man blinked, “James? Awww, babe, you shouldn’t be so upset with my tone and words. You know me for two years now, even when you were not on your own but with your family! I can go overboard a few times with my verbiage and tone and expressions but I don’t really mean most of it. I am always a babe, your babe, aren’t I? I was just thinking, he shouldn’t suspect you are involved elsewhere.”

“Yeah,” Sherlock sighed, “He should not.”

“Then go ahead and have sex with him, lay out the honey trap so he succumbs, per our plans,” Jim said with a mock snarl and a crude show of fisting that left nothing to imagination, “It’s not like no virgin has never had sex for the first time, that’s in fact what transforms them from virgin to non-virgin…. Hahahahaha!!!”

Sherlock blushed. “Jim come on man…..”

Jim rolled his eyes and leaned against Sherlock, big doe eyes fluttering innocently at him. “Hey Sherly, do you realize that in two years you haven’t allowed me anything intimate, not even a proper kiss,” his voice was hissy, dangerous and Sherlock felt weak in the knees, his heartbeat sped up, “I have been a very considerate boyfriend, a real doll, haven’t I? Now it’s your turn to be the doll, the babe, the provider! Go on and get us the hard cash we need to start a new life, where I can make an honest man of you and we can actually have a life most couples lead. Quickies in the morning, phone-sex in the afternoon, long lingering lovemaking in the evening, what say you Mr. Green Goblin Eyes?”

Sherlock felt the same thrill he always felt whenever this man teased him, flirted with him. He was hard and Jim noticed that. He stuck his knee up between Sherlock’s legs, touching the groin. “Oooh, lalala, someone is excited and hot and ready to get all randy with me huh? Do you wanna take a chance and bend me over the sink, take me with just the help of a little spit? Yeah, you want that?”

Sherlock, despite his puritan upbringing, found himself nodding to that.

“Imagine this could be our life once we are able to pull this off.”

“Jim-Jam, won’t it be….??”

“What? Speak up! Don’t whisper like a girl. Come on, what were you trying to say? Sherrrlyyy, I don’t have all day!!”

“It won’t be stealing, right?”

  
“Awww my darling, of course not. We have been through this before, haven’t we? What did I tell you when we first discussed this opportunity, this assignment? He is using you to make money too, he’s definitely got some kind of game going on behind the scenes and you are his convenient façade, the one that’s probably helping him get away with a dark secret. Like maybe erectile dysfunction, trust issues, commitment problems, bipolar, a mistress or mister hidden somewhere who may not be presentable, not someone one can proudly introduce to a mayor.”

Sherlock swallowed, “How long have you been watching me?”

“Throughout the play,” Jim blinked rapidly, “Any problem?”

“No, I was just…..”

“Okay, let’s cut out the crap now Sherlock. He is using you so you will also use him. He has so much money that he probably can’t count it even if he spent the rest of his life doing so. Twenty three fucking billion, most of which he hasn’t even earned. There has to be things he doesn’t need, items he hasn’t noticed for a long time, assets that he’s forgotten or isn’t aware of, there must be so many such things.”

Sherlock remembered the room John had taken him to. He also remembered the conversations between himself and Jim. How they had sat in the scruffy squalid flat he lived in, Jim on his lap and enticing him with brochures and stories of vacations, houses by the beach, skiing in the Alps, eating at gourmet restaurants, wearing the latest fashion, starting and growing their own company and most of all, showing his family he could do it on his own. He didn’t need them. “Yes,” he said softly, not sure why he couldn’t agree wholeheartedly to this scheme anymore, “There might be such items, one or two, I will have to figure out which ones they are. Give me some time.”

“Yeah but don’t take too much time. Once you have something, pass it on to me and as long as we get about five million, you can use the exit clause of the contract and escape. Three months at the most. The longer you stay, the harder it will be for you to get out of that place.”

“Yeah.”

Jim leaned in closer, “See, to know everything he owns you need to gain his trust. Pillow talk and sex happen to be very powerful in gaining ‘mind-control’ over a partner, especially one like John Watson. That man has probably not had sex or a relationship in quite a while.”

“H-How do you know?”

The door opened and closed and Sherlock saw a flash of blond to his side. He turned, looking straight into a pair of lapis blue eyes that glittered with something he couldn’t quite figure out. Sherlock jumped back from Jim and was about to tick off the man for barging in when he stunned him by saying, “You were asking him how he knows? Well, I told him. I happen to be his spy and informer. I am his eyes and ears…..”

“And through our connect,” Jim interrupted, “Your eyes and ears as well.”

“Spy?” Sherlock frowned, “Informer? Why do we even need one?”

“We do,” Jim said, “Better be informed about what’s coming up than going in blind.”

“Name’s Sebastian,” said the man with daffodil blond hairs and lapis blue eyes, tall and imposing with a ripped physique and tanned skin. Quite the supermodel, with his tattoos and rippling muscles, Sherlock thought. A strange clench in his gut told him he was jealous.

“Jim, I need to talk to you, alone,” he pleaded with his boyfriend of two years, “I was not aware that a third person knows about this. I don’t even know who this man is and…..”

“Hey, don’t get upset and jealous, even if it’s cute,” Jim said quickly. Sebastian cleared his throat irritably and added, “They are using the other bathroom but with a new show on, the crowd’s getting bigger and bigger and someone will complain about this toilet being closed. You two need to get out of here now.”

“See, he is so useful,” Jim giggled, patting Sebastian on his arm, “He was standing guard for us and keeping an eye on the surroundings. So, as you were saying you don’t know Sebby, well I know him and I believe that’s enough. You trust me, don’t you?” When Sherlock nodded slowly Jim stood on tiptoes and gave him a peck on his lips. Sherlock automatically leaned forward but Jim pulled back swiftly and scoffed, “You want more, you must do this for us. Pick up something that he won’t miss, won’t even know is missing, and just get out of that place. Remember, he’s only paying you to be his partner, he doesn’t really want to put a ring on you. Don’t get emotionally invested in that man!”

“Jimmy….”

“See ya. Gotta go. Come on Sebby!”

“See ya, Sherlock.”

“But I was…..” Sherlock began but the two of them had already walked out of the men’s room by then. As the door swung back on him, Sherlock grabbed it and murmured wistfully, “…..I was about to ask if we will meet again soon.”

***

“Oh, wow,” John’s eyes were fixed on Sherlock as the latter stood in just a pair of swim trunks. Short ones that covered only the basics and nothing more. He had bought them the day before, on purpose, to seduce John, and it was apparently working. He could see the lust in John’s eyes.

“I am in the mood for a swim,” Sherlock shrugged, not bothering to cover his semi-nudity with the towel that hung around his shoulders, “It’s a very warm, sunny day. Wanted to ask if you wanna join me?”

John seemed to be in a dilemma. While he was smiling a little and already on his feet, he didn’t want to give up on his next appointment either. He looked at his iPad, then at his phone, then back at Sherlock. “Who is this person you’re about to meet,” Sherlock whined, strutting around the home office like a peacock, very aware that the tight swim trunks accentuated his butt nicely, “Can he not come back in a couple of hours, once we had a swim and lunch? It cannot be the Prime Minister of the country, is it?”

John looked at Sherlock with surprise, “It isn’t the Prime Minister but it’s someone who works with him, it’s someone who manages his correspondence and press relations. His media secretary. But you’re right, we can always defer the appointment by a few hours!!!”

“We can?” Sherlock’s eyes glowed, “That means you will be coming with me for a swim? We will race each other?”

“Seems like that’s what’s about to happen,” John said, playfully swatting Sherlock on the butt, “You go on and sit by the pool or just start off with your swim, I will join you in about ten minutes.” He ruffled Sherlock’s hairs afterwards, giving him the sort of smile that made hope flare up in the younger man’s heart. Yes, it seemed like things were going the right way. Maybe tonight we will have sex and then I can….. find out more about him, this house, the locked rooms, access to every part and the assets, their value. But why do I feel so bad doing things this way? I was supposed to do this, that was how this was planned when Jim told me about this Watson assignment.

“Sherlock? Sherl? Where did you get lost?”

John clicked his fingers before Sherlock’s face.

“No, nothing,” Sherlock said, flushing a little around the cheeks, “Come over soon!”

Sherlock was doing his sixth lap when John joined him by the poolside. He was wearing more conservative board shorts but it still showed his body and Sherlock was quite taken aback by how buff he was. Not the sort one would see in magazines or movies but this was surely what anyone would expect in real life. A regular, normal man but one who watched his diet and worked out regularly, who had a natural tendency towards leanness and muscle tone.

_He looked very nice! Sexy even!_

“Come on, let’s race,” John called out and dove in.

They raced each other for the next several minutes and fought fair and square but with a competitive edge to their strokes. Sherlock found that John was faster in freestyle and backstrokes while the more complex strokes, like breast stroke and butterfly were areas he won easily. By the end of thirty minutes they had developed a healthy respect for each other.

“You need more sunblock,” John frowned when he saw Sherlock’s skin reddening.

“Yeah, I think whatever I applied is gone…. It was waterproof, still….!!”

“I’ll rub some on you. Come.”

They settled on one of the recliners and John began to apply some lotion. As his hands moved lower and lower, Sherlock got an idea. While inwardly squirming and trembling from anxiety and fear, he lowered his swim trunks to expose his butt cheeks. He heard the gasp that left John’s throat and the way the man’s hands trembled over his skin.

“Please,” he said, “Would you mind if I get rid of tan lines and just sunbathe nude for a little while? Or is it not advisable, considering we have….. I am sorry, I mean, you have so many retainers on the property.”

John was applying suntan lotion on him already, his hands lingering longer than necessary on Sherlock’s pert and rosy rear, his breath hitching now and then as he caressed the smooth flesh of the twin butt cheeks. “Um…. You can do that, this is a mansion, not a council estate…. You have privacy here….” He stopped, cleared his throat and stayed quiet for a little while. Sherlock felt himself harden and while that was embarrassing, he knew he was not alone in it. He saw the tenting in John’s shorts and because it was wet, the outline of his cock was quite apparent. Sherlock felt a shiver run down his spine. _The man was huge_. He was sure of that, his eyes were not tricking him, this was real.

“You sure Jawn?”

“Yes. I will just have to call and inform Eckhart and he will shut off this area of the house. No one will come here or disturb us. No peeping Toms. No interfering Irene’s. They are all paid extra to be discreet and to mind their own business. They’re all pretty well-trained, you know.”

“Great!”

Shedding off the last of his fears and worries, embarrassment, scruples and inhibitions, Sherlock took off the swim trunk and went totally nude as John began to make that intercom call to his valet. In a shiny glass sheet before him, the green eyed man saw John stare fixedly at his naked butt and back as he lay down on top of a towel he’d draped over the recliner. He purposefully chose that position, so John couldn’t see his erection yet.

He heard John speaking without listening to the words.

Then he felt the man join him, right there, on that recliner, in the confined space. Their hips touched and Sherlock tensed. He could smell John, he could feel the warmth of his breath and the slippery coolness of his skin. He could literally hear their heartbeats hum together.

_It felt normal, the right thing to do, a natural progression to their relationship._

***

I need him. I am doing this. I won’t stop myself anymore. I have the right to live a normal life. Have a regular sex life. A life that I long deserved.

John bent down and kissed the back of Sherlock’s neck. He felt the other man’s breath hitch and grew bolder when he realized Sherlock was not going to stop him. Still, he gave him ample time to say ‘no’ as he caressed his back and kissed down his spine, stopping at the swell of his plush buttocks.

Sherlock spread his legs a bit wider, a reflex action maybe, but that was the end of all virtue signaling from the younger man. A soft moan escaped him as John kneaded the buttocks and kissed each of the cheeks before parting them to expose the central crack. It was a quivering light pink and tight hole, twitching in anticipation, the soft furled opening clenching and unclenching as John kissed it and then gave it a teasing lick. “Oh fuck, this is unreal,” Sherlock moaned as he buried his face in his hands and pushed his butt up a little.

John had never been the kinky type and he had _never ever done this_. But he felt compelled to do it, so much that he was wondering if he was craving something like this! He felt greedy for a taste, he felt needy for this beautiful body stretched out before him like a lucrative offer. He was so overcome with desire that he started leaking, the clear slick pouring out of his cock creating a wet patch on his fast-drying board shorts. On top of that Sherlock proved to be very responsive, eager and sensuous. The sounds he made, the way he reacted, the soft pants that kept escaping him, everything combined to make John so raging hard that his cock escaped the elastic waistband of his shorts.

“Oh fuck,” John doubled over as a wave came a bit too close.

“What….?” Sherlock asked in an incoherent manner, turning his head slightly to one side to check why John had stopped licking his hole.

“Nothing… I was just, let me do this…” John said, his voice thick with desire.

He parted the cheeks and dove in. He fucked it with a hard tongue and when Sherlock’s moans rose and he started to thrash about, he started to soothe it with licks with the tip and flat of his tongue. He alternated between the two ministrations till Sherlock was sobbing with arousal. “Wanna cum now?” He asked, stroking himself with a light hand. He didn’t want to cum…. Yet.

“Y-Yeaaah, pleeeease!!” John smiled and continued to eat him out, but at the same time he slipped his hand underneath Sherlock’s groin and started to give the weeping cock a few strokes. It turned out that it was all Sherlock needed for his first release. With a sudden and great shudder Sherlock hollered.

“JAWWWWNNN!!!”

He came so hard he almost blacked out while John felt his hand suddenly covered with his lover’s seed. With a smirk he brought his hand to his mouth and licked. _Yes, yes, I gave him an amazing orgasm and no, no, we aren’t stopping at one!_


	7. Intimacy for real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is no longer sure he can betray John

“Nooooo!!!”

Sherlock stiffened and tensed, grabbing John’s hand as he was breached with one finger. No, Sherlock, no, don’t do that, don’t be a fucking prude or some frigid virgin. Do you or do you not want to be with Jim? But no, how can I do this, this is not Jim, this is John. Oh yes, you can, to get to Jim you have to go through John.

John was startled on three grounds. The way he had reacted to the sight of a naked Sherlock. How right it felt to start doting on him, rimming him, kissing him. Finally, the most shocking revelation! He had not expected Sherlock to be a virgin. From the way he had come across in the initial two or three days, it was easy for him to assume Sherlock was like any other young, sexually liberated man of the new millennium; happy to take risks and eager to explore. But the gorgeous creature turned out to be a virgin, a precious, untouched virgin who had trusted him to be his ‘first’. While not a prudish bastard, John couldn’t deny the power trip he got on it and how it endeared Sherlock even more to him. The first few knocks on the door of his heart had been subtle, with those nocturnal cuddles and stolen glances, then that kiss! But now Sherlock was pounding on the same door, demanding entry, and John found himself growing more and more helpless by the moment.

_I am about to fall in love…._

_No, I think I already have._

_Oh God no! Please, this isn’t how it was supposed to be._

“I will be gentle,” he promised, “Won’t hurt you.” 

“I-I have….”

“No need to worry, no need to be afraid of me.”

“Will it hurt?”

“A little. But if you relax and enjoy this, trust me, if you don’t tense up and don’t get anxious, then it won’t.”

Green eyes focused on him and a look of relief came over the young, angelic face. Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes, relaxing a little. John withdrew his finger, smeared more lube on all the digits and pushed two inside the tight heat this time. A brief flash of discomfort crossed Sherlock’s face before he exhaled and relaxed again. “That’s it,” John kissed his hips, “Keep breathing, keep on breathing in and out.”

In a brief while he had four fingers inside, twisting and turning, moving them in and out, holding still when Sherlock showed resistance or discomfiture. By and by the older man kept probing and found the spot of gold! The tiny little bundle of nerves that was key to the pleasures of gay sex and orgasm. He pressed upon it and rubbed it.

Sherlock shrieked.

He had never felt this kind of pleasure before. Owing to his own vows of chastity initially, his excessive dependency on his Catholic upbringing and the dictates issued by his teachers and vicar and also Jim’s unwillingness to draw him out of his shell, Sherlock had never done more than just lip-kissing and mutual masturbation. Jim had touched him a few times but never had he even seen Sherlock naked. Sometimes Sherlock had even wondered if Jim was indeed interested in him but part of him was also tremendously flattered that his otherwise bohemian and liberal boyfriend was happy to save this part for their wedding night. An old fashioned romantic, this was one of the things Sherlock absolutely adored about his beautiful James.

But now, he felt he was in the biggest dilemma of his life. Should he actually enjoy this or stop it because he wanted Jim to be his first.

John’s mouth closed on his cock and Sherlock screamed again, brain rendered useless by the dual assault on his lower torso, the relentless finger fucking and the insistent sucking of his cock by that wicked, hot mouth. He grabbed Johns blond hairs, dilemma removed, desire doubled, absolutely ready to embrace his needs at this moment. “Please…. P-Please,” he breathed out the words as waves and waves of pleasure closed in, “I-I’m so close again…..!!”   
  


“Then I have to stop, I guess,” John let go of the cock with a wet suckling sound, then pulled his fingers out gently.

“Feels empty,” Sherlock whined.

“You asked me to stop.”

“Uhnnn…..”

“You didn’t really mean it, did you?”

“Jawn, Jawn, Jawn….!!!”

“I love the way you call out my name,” John said as he nuzzled Sherlock’s pubes, all the while as he slicked up his own cock and added a dollop to the now-open and relaxed hole, “I want to hear it when you cum, with my cock buried deep inside you!”

“Oh fuck, cummingggg!!!”

“Nope, hold it, not this time.”

John grabbed the base of Sherlock’s cock and gave it a tight, hard squeeze. The orgasm receded and the young man heaved a huge sigh of release. When John strokes his smooth, muscular thighs, he parted his legs willingly and wide, exposing the dark red moistness in the gaping hole between the two long limbs.

His senses on overdrive, his mouth watering, every fiber of his body screaming for release, John pushed his rock hard erection inside. He took time, knowing he was larger than the usual guy, and waited for the brunette to adjust. When Sherlock stopped squirming and breathed out, he pushed in a few more inches, then a little more. Finally, when he was buried root to tip and his balls touched Sherlock’s buttocks, he took a few deep breaths to compose himself. Sherlock’s faltering erection jerked and came alive again and he innocently grabbed John’s hand and guided it to his cock, presumably to make him stroke the awakening member and keep him aroused as ever.

Instead it just pushed John over the edge.

_Who knew touching their hard length could have this effect on me!!!_

With a growl John came, filling Sherlock with his spunk and jerking spasmodically on top of him. Wide eyed and awed by that sight, Sherlock watched unblinking, his arms and legs coming around John to keep him right there. It felt unusually and unexpectedly good to have a man cum inside him and Sherlock’s own cock leaked a puddle on his flat abs, responding to the stimulating effects of the older man cumming hard.

John thrust erratically into him, riding out his orgasm, then he buried his face in Sherlock’s neck and sucked a rather colorful bruise on the pale skin there. “Ohhhh,” he went, squirming as he came down from the high, “Oh fuck that was so good baby!”

“Yeah, m-me too…I want to… make me cum!”

John nodded, “Gimme just a minute to catch my breath and I promise you a big, long, explosive ride right afterwards.”

By the time John made him cum twice more, Sherlock had forgotten about Jim and all about being a virgin and preserving his modesty or chastity.

***

They took things from the poolside to the pool house. Then they took it to their bedroom. For the rest of the afternoon and evening they went at it, taking short naps and gaps between rounds and continuing again.

If Sherlock was astonished at how much stamina John had, John was also pleasantly surprised by Sherlock’s rather short and frequent refractory period. In every fifteen minutes to half an hour the younger man would be hard and randy again, ready for the next round, lustful and insatiable to the core.

After cumming nearly seven times and making Sherlock cum about nine or ten times over a period of sixteen hours, both men slept like the dead late into the morning the next day. John had woken a couple of times to hydrate and relieve himself and cancel his appointments for the next day. He also sent some texts to apologize to those he had to cancel last minute, including the Prime Minister’s secretary, whose appointment was pushed to Wednesday. Sherlock woke up only once in all these hours, for a leak and to drink several glasses of water. Then he fell back on the bed like a doll and passed out again.

Their prolonged sex coma would have continued well into the post-noon hours on Monday had it not been for a call from Mary to John, stating that he had a visitor. A bit unsteady on his feet, John came downstairs hurriedly after a customary morning routine of brushing and washing up. When he heard Mycroft Holmes, his lawyer, was here he frowned with bafflement. Mycroft’s visits were often irregular, usually once or twice a week, but sometimes work kept him away and he didn’t show up for up to two to three weeks. However, whether it was frequently or sporadically, Mycroft never showed up unless he had taken an appointment. He was very, very professional and meticulous that way and very organized.

_What if it’s something bad, something unfortunate._ He entered one of the formal reception rooms and found the tall, suave, immaculately dressed man standing by the window and looking out into the lawns and the swimming pool beyond. He was leaning on his umbrella. John blushed a bit when he remembered himself and Sherlock by the same poolside, a little over twenty four hours ago!

“Mike?”

“Hey, hello John.”

“Good morning.”

“More like good afternoon. It’s noon, just about. Did you just wake up? Are you well? I mean, you have always been a morning person.”

“Yeah and sometimes morning persons like to sleep in. I am fine, no worries. Is this a social visit or did you have any work?”

Mycroft shook his head, “I wouldn’t have woken you had it been only a visit for coffee or a glass of wine. I’d simply have come back later. I came here to tell you there’s good news. Remember we have been fighting a case over Plot 23, Block A, Vibgyor Township?”

“Yes of course,” John replied, “The one where we had no chances of winning and yet you felt we shouldn’t give up our claim? What about it? The case was supposed to go on for six months to a year, isn’t it?”

Mycroft smiled with cocky confidence, “It has been concluded in seven months. And the verdict is in your favor. Thanks to a little tact from my side, your squeaky clean reputation and a little help from one of the witnesses, the other party has lost. The entire plot is now yours.”

John was totally taken aback by the statement and the unexpected good news. He had more or less stopped believing that plot could come back to him. After all, the other party had a solid case and some really powerful background claims and information. “This is unbelievable,” he said, shaking Mycroft’s hand, “It’s all thanks to you, of course. So your fee will be double for this one.” He paused as Mycroft took a small bow, “If you can also prepare some transfer papers please. This plot will be a gift from me to someone, who’s probably brought me a bucketload of good luck and happiness over the past ten odd days.”

Mycroft was not the nosy kind so, even though he raised his eyebrows, he didn’t say anything nor did he ask any questions. John realized he was making a mistake the moment he uttered those words though. Mycroft must not know. He simply must not. I have to cover this up in some way and put forth an excuse. “Actually a benefactor,” he clarified, “Someone I owe something to. They haven’t asked for anything and they shouldn’t have to, I’d like to do that on my own, by my own volition.”

“You have often donated, gifted, given away,” Mycroft said, “I am not surprised and since it’s not my money but yours, you don’t owe me any explanations.”

“It’s not like that,” John said, “We are friends.”

“Yes of course,” Mycroft said, “That’s why I came to see you, straight from the court.”

John’s mind was still focused on the sleeping Sherlock in his bed so, even though it seemed a bit rude, he still tried to end the conversation and send Mycroft away. It was a Monday so surely the man had work and wouldn’t expect to be invited for lunch. “Well, your bonus pay for winning this particular case will be transferred to your account in a couple of days. Maybe one of the weekends we can meet at the club, have a drink, play a round of pool, what say?”

“That would be awesome. I’ll just meet your gran before I leave.”

John held his breath. He didn’t want Mycroft to meet his grandma very often. Things could get difficult for him. But there was no way of stopping him without rousing suspicion so he said indifferently, “Yeah, alright, very well then. I shall see you soon.”

“Oh, one more thing.”

“Sure Mike.”

“The transfer papers to your friend. The plot is worth almost a hundred million John. You sure want to give it all away or just a piece of it. I am only putting the facts on the table, of course it’s your decision eventually.”

John didn’t want to get into a situation of question and answer or argument with the lawyer, whose brains were sharper than a knife and worked faster than the speed of light. One wrong word and he might end up letting the cat out of the bag. For this he had to leverage some other lawyer and quickly too, before Mycroft develop other ideas and plans and brought one or more of his plans to a grinding halt. “Yes of course, I might change my mind and give only part of it. Not decided yet. I might not give anything away at all. Perhaps to the charities that Aaron manages. Okay then, thanks for coming over and giving me this good news in person.”

“Oh no problem at all.”

“How rude of me! I should have asked…. How is your brother, parents…. Oops!!”

Mycroft simply snorted, “It’s okay. I know how weird it sounds but… yeah, we are a broken family that way and we don’t know where he is. After he eloped with that wicked, conniving Irish brat we made it clear to him that he’s on his own. Since then he’s never come back to us for anything, not even a hi or a birthday card, and we too have kept away from him and his affairs. Completely.”

“I hope that changes,” John said with genuine sympathy, “Not that I am any better off. You know about my sister.”

“Yeah, crosses we have to carry, I guess.”

“I better be on my way then.”

***

“Jawn-Jawn-Jawn?”

“What-what-what?”

John looked up and smiled at the enthusiastic young man. He was exercising in the gym a couple of days later when Sherlock paid him a surprise visit, with Mike Stamford right on his heels. “Guess what, that fellow Aaron Lockhart has been cheating and swindling you of several million,” Sherlock spoke animatedly, “For the past seven years he has been doing this, giving you details of multiple deposits but all made to the same account. He has been using some names as a cover, then from the backend he’d transfer it to his wife’s name or that of his daughter.”

“What?” John was aghast, “Mike, is that true?”

When Mike Stamford nodded with a grim expression John wiped his face with a towel and stood up on the exercise mat. “Christ! That man has been with us for ten years. He set up the charities. Then for the past seven he has been handling all the accounts, events and selections.”

“That’s the problem Jawn,” Sherlock said, “I was just curious and going through the kind of pastimes you have, hobbies you have stopped indulging yourself in, philanthropy which is so important to you and this caught my attention. Otherwise no one would have suspected him at all. Usually we trust those who have been with us for years and mostly that trust is quite logical and validated. But some people, despite their long association with us, tend to stray off the right path at some point of time. Maybe it’s increased demands from a new wife, debts accumulated due to some gambling habits, just plain greed because they feel no one is watching them and they can take liberties.”

“Is that so Mike?” John gave the somber man a startled glance, “Have you verified any of these things yet?”

“Yes. He has divorced his first wife and taken on a second. The first one took him to the cleaners and the second one has accumulated debts. He also has illegitimate kids, two from former mistresses plus three from the previous marriage. Then this new, young wife has a child from an earlier relationship that he’s adopted. In ten years his life has changed completely. He is no longer the carefree and cheerful bachelor he used to be when he joined us at twenty-eight. He is broke, steeped in debt and alcoholic.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He never showed any slacking at work.”

“But I am responsible for my people.”

“Even if they steal?”

“He won’t work for me anymore. But that doesn’t mean I will destroy him. I can still help him otherwise he will become a proper criminal Mike.”

Mike Stamford started talking about organizing a meeting between John and this Aaron but Sherlock stood there dumbfounded, a warm feeling spreading in his chest, his wondrous eyes upon John as he began to see the man behind the billionaire, the intelligent sophisticate’s mask slipping off and revealing the kind and gentle human beneath. If he was attracted to John earlier, now he had begun to like him and respect him.

“Hey,” John elbowed him playfully, “You saved me about nine million for this year.”

“How?”

“I am not passing any of his payment requests and voucher. Also, some of the money he has extracted in the last year, which is still not transferred, will be swiftly moved into a suspense account and taken back into our company account. Total savings of sixteen million easily!”

***

John’s eyes remained transfixed on Sherlock as the beautiful young man rose and fell on him like a radiant angel, his nimble movements and nymph like gyrations giving him an otherworldly aura. He glowed and sparkled, as if he had a full body halo behind him! John knew it was only his mind playing tricks but what were his chances of controlling his mind when someone this beautiful was riding him hard, riding him while wanton moans dripped out of his mouth and clear slick pre-cum poured out of his cock and right on to John’s fingers. He was fisting him with a light hand, careful not to make him cum prematurely.

Over the past week or so, Sherlock’s self-control had improved. From lasting two to five minutes, now he could last for at least seven to ten on the first round.

“Feels good,” Sherlock moaned, teasing his own nipples and touching himself, pupils dilated as he took and gave pleasure in equal proportions. When he felt a mild twinge in his groin and a corresponding vibration in his balls, he slowed down and started to rotate and grinding his hips on John’s huge cock, letting himself feel every inch of it in his tight, volcanic hot channel. The needy groans from John gave him a greater impetus to prolong this pleasurable moments, the sight of this powerful, wealthy, poised man totally helpless with lust was a sight he could cum a hundred time to!

“Fuck!” Sherlock felt an orgasm coming on that he couldn’t stop. It was too potent, too strong, he was losing it. Without a thought a word came out of his mouth! “Daddy….!”

He felt an immediately pulsating begin in his arse and John’s thrusts getting harder, faster but irregular. “Fuck,” the older man was shaking all over, overcome with a need for release, “Fuck Sherlock…. My baby boy!!!” He started stroking him harder to help him cum, hoping to hold on till that happened. But orgasm swept through him right away and he let out an epic roar of pleasure, hips moving uncontrollably and his head turning from side to side. Warmth hit Sherlock’s insides and triggered his orgasm.

“Ohhhhh,” Sherlock threw his head back and stilled, “Jawwnnnnn!” He shot all his load over his lover, soiling him from the neck to abs and even getting a shot on his shoulder and one of the upper arms. John was still cumming inside him and grabbed his narrow hips, slamming inside. Finally, as they came down from the high, Sherlock giggled happily and asked, “What brought that on?” He didn’t expect an answer, nor did he want one. He just knew he was _very happy,_ _with John._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you must know, I don't plan for Sherlock to hurt John for real nor do I think John will be too cruel or vengeful towards him. Jim and Seb on the other hand, hmmm, let's see.


	8. Threatening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's obnoxiously pushy and selfish behavior pushes Sherlock emotionally close to John

John stepped into the northern section of the mansion, accessible only through an interconnecting door on the first floor, between two hallways, and from the ground floor via a set of stairs/elevator. John of course took the door, which no one else opened without permission. His grandmother’s section of the house was mostly kept segregated and isolated, to ensure the old lady was not disturbed and no interference came from her or towards her.

As soon as he had reached the bedroom suite, as huge and grandiose as his own, her companion Elizabeth came out to greet him. “Hey John,” he hugged her and she kissed his cheek, “Good to see you. All well?”

“Plenty well, better than usual I’d say,” John was smiling a bit too wide and she noticed that, giving him a curious smile. Instantly John put his guard up and said, “Is he in a position to talk to me? Will she do that? Or I can come back later.” Elizabeth nodded and took his arm in a gesture of guidance, “She’s enjoying a rare sit-out on the balcony today, thanks to the excellent weather we have. Let me check the schedule, yeah she’s free at this moment, no shots, treatment, food or change of clothes planned for the next two hours. Even I am going out for a while so it’s good you dropped by. Come along, I’ll take you to her and then take your leave.”

He found her staring at the blooming garden ahead with a pleasant twinkle in her eyes and a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. She didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence but the moment he cleared his throat to draw attention she quipped, “Come, sit here beside me.”

“Nana, good evening.”

“It’s evening already? Oh yes, must be five.”

“Five-thirty.”

“Of course. I had dinner half an hour ago. When do you eat your dinner?”

“We have it around eight or so. Not as early as you do.”

She let out a soft laugh, “I remember the boy who would insist on a treat of staying up till nine. The boy who didn’t like conventions. The boy who knew how to get his way no matter what price he paid for that eventually. So much like your father and your grand uncle.”

“No, I am not exactly like them….”

She shook her head at his feeble protest. “No? Like you, they too were terrible liars.”

John blinked, “Nana? What do you…..??”

“You said ‘we’. That clearly means you dine with someone else now. And if someone is dining with you so late in the evening then that means they live with you too. Or at least, that’s what they have been doing lately. Tell me Johnny, have you found someone to share your life with? What does Mary feel about them…. Him…. I am assuming you have found a man this time.”

“Yes, it is a man, a young man I am very fond of,” John answered carefully, “But it’s early days yet. Only around a month. I’ll bring him to you but in a few more weeks.”

Dame Rosalie Watson gave her grandson a scrutinizing stare. “John, you are leading your life all wrong. You’re making the same mistakes your mum made. People will let you down, but that doesn’t mean you don’t trust anyone ever again. If your love hasn’t been reciprocated by one, that doesn’t make you any less worthy. It means someone else might suit you better. I had repeated these words to your mother over and over again, right up till the end.” She sighed, “I won’t be around for long now. But I lived a happy, fulfilled life. Yes, I had a philandering husband and a brother in law who I had wished…. I could marry. But he chose a bachelor’s life and I chose to be devoted to your dad. At the end it didn’t work perfectly for any of us. But we managed, we forgave, we at least found closure.”

“Unlike mum?” John said with a soft exhale.

“Yes. But she is gone now. Think of those who are left. Please, listen to me and do as I say, just call her.”

“No. I won’t. She could call too. Why don’t you advise her to do the same? I know for a fact that you send her cash every month.”

“My darling boy, I own sixty seven percent of our properties, stakes, shares, deposits, jewels and other movable and immovable assets. You own thirty-three percent. If I so wished, I could have given her the share, the full share, _her share_. But your dad was very particular this belonged to you, all of this belongs to you and always will. Hence I only send her what’s within my rights to do.”

“Such as?”

“A house. Modest three bedrooms, with a little space around it. Enough money to be financially secure and have an annuity even if she doesn’t wanna work in the future. Some jewelry, which is a gal’s best friend. A couple of cars, that she and her girlfriend drive. You met Alicia?”

“Alicia is my favorite in fact. She is a paramedic. So yeah, I know her well.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled even more as she smiled broadly. Her eyes glittered, her teeth were still mostly intact. She still retained glimpses of her earlier beauty and almost three fourths of her vibrance and glamor, even at this advanced age and despite debilitating illnesses. She reached out and took John’s hand murmuring gently.

“Don’t you do the same for Mary?”

Her eyebrows twitched and she gave him a subtle winking nod.

“You got me, you always do with one of you completely logical examples nana,” John said with a broad grin, shoulders shaking. As he continued to chat with the matriarch, he quietly made up his mind to gift that plot to Sherlock. All of it and not just a part or a strip. He didn’t even think it was necessary to seek counsel of his grandmother anymore. She had just given him the answer. People you love or care about, you have every right to give them something that makes their lives easier. In Sherlock’s case, it was a token of appreciation as well as a way to make him feel like an equal. He didn’t want the young man to consider himself less than John or anyone else related to John.

***

“Hey, it’s me,” Sherlock whispered whilst sitting on the stairs leading to the attic. He kept himself positioned at a spot where he could keep an eye on anyone who might come up here.

Fortunately at that late hour no one appeared. Servant quarters were in the basement, most of their work was on the ground floor and bedrooms were on the first. The second floor, or the third level of the mansion, usually remained deserted post dinner. All the rooms were kept closed for the night. “Hello Jimmy,” he whispered again, slightly louder, “What’s with all that awful noise around you? Are you partying??!”

“I am at a nightclub,” Jim said irritably and then shut a door, emerging from what appeared to be a very noisy room or area. “Having a drink and no, I am not dancing or flirting with other men. Other men are flirting with me though and that I can’t help. Now don’t you start off with your nagging and whining about me enjoying while you pimp yourself for cash. I have sustained us for two years, you need to show me the man you are and make some arrangement for us for a lifetime.”

“When did I deny that? I was just concerned that…..”

“Concerned about what?”

“No one should bother you. No one should molest or make those advances….”

“Oh don’t worry. I got a gun on me.”

“A GUN? HOW?”

“For my personal safety. I don’t have a license yet but soon I’ll have on. Sebby is organizing it.”

“Why does this Sebby fellow pop up now and then? Do you need a bodyguard now? You’re the least dependent and insecure person I know Jim-Jim and it’s other people who’d better beware of you than the other way around.”

“Hmmm, jealous, so very cute and cuddly….. NOT! Please Sherlock, spare me those comments. Now tell me the truth, have you slept with him or not? It’s been close to a month, actually, it’s one month and two days.”

Sherlock felt a surge of disappointment and hurt at the insensitive statement. Here he was trying to talk to Jim, tell him he missed him despite all that was going on with John, to ask him if he was alright and doing well, if he needed more money (Sherlock had given fifty percent of the upfront payment of a hundred grand to Jim) etc. And all Jim was worried about was Sherlock having sex with John and casting a spell on him so he could get his hands on as much of his unaccounted, forgotten assets as he could. _Oh well, everything for the greater good…. Just that I don’t feel like doing something that is no good for John. After all, he seems like a broken man who’s trying to heal and here I am, about to shatter him again._

“Yes,” he replied.

Instantly Jim’s tone changed, “Wow! That’s my man! Is he hooked?”

“Yeah.”

Jim snarled at someone ‘I am busy’ and said sweetly into the phone, “So have you found out something yet? His mum’s jewelry? His father’s not-so-favorite painting. His grand uncle’s expensive watch or diamond ring. There could be so many things that no one is looking at anymore. They won’t even look for them, maybe they don’t know some of those items exist. You could start picking up a few and I could…..”

“James, he is a good man. I don’t want to…..”

Jim’s sweet tone rapidly changed at that, going dark and sinister. “James? Did you just call me by my full name, like you’ve found your adult voice and your non-existent spine?! What did you just say Sherlylocks? Are you betraying me now, are you? Remember who put you there! I did. I could pull you away from there as well, mercilessly if needed. You could get sued. He has no idea what you’re there for.”

“Jim… are you-are you threatening me?”

Sherlock was aghast. He had seen flashes of Jim’s temper and had got used to his barbed comments and his obvious lack of patience, snappy tone etc, but this was a bit too much even for Jim. He was quite aghast.

Jim immediately softened his tone, “Not really. Sorry I lost it. Just earmark those assets okay?”

Still shaken and a bit annoyed, Sherlock somehow managed to keep his voice even as he answered noncommittally, “Those assets? Yeah, okay, got you.”

“Great. I shall see you soon. Don’t call me too often. I’ll text you, from that blocked number so he can never trace it back to me. Goodnight!”

***

The two naked men caressed each other devotedly in bed. Like every other time they had sex, and they had sex very, very often, Sherlock grabbed the lube and handed it to John so the older man could prepare him. But to his utter surprise John returned the lube to him and winked at him before grabbing Sherlock’s hand and leading it downwards, until it was resting in the cleft of his toned arse. “I have already prepared myself,” he whispered, a little shy but also very horny, “I want you to show me how it feels like. Go on baby boy, I am all yours tonight, make me feel it for the first time.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened to the maximum possible. Was he seeing this right or was this all a dream, an illusion? John wanted to be taken???!!!

The blond man anticipated the question his lover wasn’t able to ask aloud. “Yes, I am absolutely sure I want to do this,” John said as he spread his legs and allowed Sherlock the access he had never given to anyone before, “If you want me to spell it out for you then here it is! _I want you to make love to me Sherlock Bouffler. I want you to put your dick deep inside me and fuck me until you make me cum._ I want to experience the magic of anal sex, a blitzing prostate orgasm, and it better be with someone I trust and feel easy with, like you! Please, will you be my first like I was yours!!?”

“Jawn…?”

“Yes love?”

“It’s too soon and I haven’t done this before.”

“It’s never too soon for anything. And so what if you’d never done this before. Neither have I. But I am very confident you’ll be gentle, kind and patient with me baby. I feel far more comfortable doing something like this with you, knowing you’d take extra care not to hurt me or make me feel pain beyond a point.”

Sherlock felt a lump rise to his throat. Trust him? How naïve was John and how traitorous was he? This was all kinds of wrong. But while his soul wasn’t ready, his body had already responded. His straining cock was standing flat against his abs and John, who was too huge to have a full upright erection at most times, also had a similar raging hard-on. The very sight and smell of John turned on so much was enough for him to take the next step.

***

John was, for a few moments, truly regretful about his hasty and Adrenalin driven decision to let Sherlock take him, breach him and fuck him. As the pressure of intrusion increased and he felt he was being ripped into two, he even began to tense up and give up on his self-controls, scream out his pain and just order Sherlock to stop this inhuman process when….

…… the thick and long dick probing in his very core managed to brush some part of him inside which made sparks ensue, bolts and bolts of pleasure and white heat hitting every nerve end of his body and culminate in red hot fiery passion crackle within him.

Instead of stopping the younger man he pushed backwards, fucking himself on that invading muscles, encouraging his gorgeous lover to do more, delve deeper, give it to him harder and faster. He even twisted and turned and pushed back repeatedly, seeking to be brushed deep inside, that sweet spot that he wanted to stoke again and again. Sherlock, despite his inexperience, obliged him pretty well, locating that coveted spot several times. Each time his cock dragged over it, John heard himself let out animalistic yowls and hisses, the tip of his cock on fire and ice at the same time. He had become a passenger in his own body, flowing along the turbulent river of sensations, sliding down rapids and clashing with rocks.

_It hurt no more. It just felt awesome. Now he knew why Sherlock enjoyed bottoming so much!_

“Ohhhh,” Sherlock moaned low and long when he tightness build around his cock. “Yes, yes, yes, just a few more,” John was not above begging at that point, “Just there!”

Moans, pants, howls, slapping of flesh on flesh, sounds of kisses and heavy breathing, their lovemaking felt different from other days but it was no less hot and erotic. Sherlock felt himself come apart as he approached the last stretch towards his orgasm, while John was drooling and shaking tremulously, feeling an unbelievable peak close in on him. “Yes,” he closed his eyes and threw back his head, veins standing out on his forehead and neck, “Gonna happen soon!”

“Jawn?”

  
“Yes? Don’t you dare stop!”

“No, just wanna…. Wanna cum with you!”

“Fuck, Sherl, yeaah, yeaaahh!!”

“Hunnhhhh, Jawn…. cumming, Jawn!”

Sherlock came and came, losing it a few seconds before John did. The feeling of warm semen painting his insides pushed John over the edge and he came hard enough to forget his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case of Jim, Sherlock was more infatuated than in love and perhaps just dazzled by his showoff and pomposity. Now of course he's getting to see the real Jim, notice his faults which he had earlier been blind too. Even Jim has no further use for Sherlock after this which is why he doesn't worry about pushing him away with his dominance.


	9. Unexpected Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I…. I want to be a doctor…. I mean, I already am….” John stopped, looking a bit coy and awkward, “You can laugh at me now.”
> 
> Sherlock blinked, “Why?”
> 
> “Well, a thirty-four year old saying ‘I wanna be this’ and ‘I am this’, like some confused moron.”

“Wake up baby boy,” John checked the cell phone for time, “It must be past eleven in the morning. We’ve been in bed for thirteen hours now.”

“Yeah,” Sherlock yawned, curled up in John’s arms with his head on his chest, “But asleep for only seven, that too in fits and starts. What got into you last night?”

“Nothing that you’ve not experienced before,” John kissed the top of the disheveled crop of hair that tickled his neck and chin, “You bring out the best in me, sometimes maybe even the animal in me. Last night, after you took me, I felt as if I was seeing you in a different light, as a different person…. I don’t have the right words, sorry, but what it did was ignite a strong need for you and I kept….” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. Both he and Sherlock knew what he had done. Woken the exhausted young man every two hours to make love to him, dote on him before, stroke and treasure him after, let him doze off afterwards, only to wake him up an hour later once more.

_Now he felt a bit bad._

“I wore you out, didn’t I?” He spoke with a hint of _guilt, pride and happiness,_ “Should have allowed you to sleep for a bit longer.”

“I’m young, I can recover fast,” Sherlock stretched his legs and arms, curled his toes and rubbed his nose against John’s chest, “I just need one more hour’s nap, that’s all.” He suddenly looked up, his green eyes gleaming with concern, “You’re okay, right? I remember after my first time, I wasn’t able to walk without a limp for two days. Gretel kept grinning behind my back but I realized she was.”

John chuckled aloud, “Hurts a bit, yes. But a nice soak in a hot bath will do the trick. I’ll also use the same soothing ointment I had applied on your…..”

The sounds of the intercom buzzing brought the conversation to a halt. Sherlock whined. John frowned, “I am not answering it. I told them to not disturb me unless the house was on fire. Not until noon and there’s still forty-five minutes more to go for that!”

Sherlock giggled, “What do you think they’d assume? That we are having sex and more sex?”

“I think that is something they’ve guessed already,” John said with a pleased smile, “From Mary to Mike to Elizabeth, everyone has been telling me I look a lot more relaxed and happy lately. I seem to have more empathy and patience, I have taken more risks and followed new paths and ideas. Basically they’re all saying they like the new ‘me’ a lot more than the older one. Even in terms of profits and success, things have been looking up for me ever since you came in.”

“Rubbish. You were always successful, always been very, very rich.”

“Being rich isn’t necessarily equal to being successful,” John said with a slow exhale, “Especially when you haven’t made most of that money yourself.”

Sherlock felt a shift in the air between them. John was opening up. Physical intimacy had already been established, now he was getting emotionally drawn towards Sherlock. “Well, thanks to your good karma you were born in a family with mega riches.”

“That means, my darling little doll,” John caressed Sherlock’s bare shoulders, his tone and the look in his eyes wistful, pitiful, “I had a platform to succeed. I didn’t need to struggle for funds or contacts or opportunities. They were served to me on a platter. Yet, what did I do with all that? Look at me Sherlock, I am alone, mostly lonely, I don’t have a proper career or ambitions that I can be proud of, I am practically without a family whereas most of my school and college mates have wives, husbands, kids. I live with my mother’s ghost, if I can put it that way. With all the money at my disposal, I am not even at liberty to do normal work. I am not treated as a normal person.”

Sherlock knew a bit of this already about the man whose arms he lay in. The loneliness, the lack of family members, the fact that he was haunted by his mom’s death. The rest he had no clue about. But John was opening up, just like Jim had hinted earlier, and this pillow talk was becoming the most revealing conversation they ever had.

“You haven’t blown up half the fortune with gambles, risks and stubborn business ideas that failed spectacularly,” he said, trying to make it easier on the older man, “Instead you have grown the funds, you have maintained your ancestral properties, the wealth, the heirlooms pretty well. You’ve been a preserver.”

“Yes, I have grown the wealth left to me by my father and grandfather. By about a billion every three years, mostly thanks to wise investments and no-risk wealth management. But if that’s an achievement then it also means what a spectacularly useless piece of shit the rest of my life is. Anyone with half a brain can do that, provided they have good advisors and legal counsel.”

“You’re being harsh on yourself.”

“No Sherlock. Today when I see you, hear about your ambitions, witness the way you’re planning and plotting the future, this risk you’ve taken with the current assignment….. I have begun to admire you and at the same time sense my inadequacy.”

Sherlock got a start, “Jawn, no, please, no, I can’t be the trigger for your frustrations. I am sorry, I really am……”

“Ah no baby boy,” John kissed him on the lips, “The trigger is my own brain, my on conscience.”

“You are a philanthropist. You help so many people. So many kids have got a chance at life because you provide them education. So many retired seniors and veterans live a comfortable life and also get medical aid thanks to your support. Your charities help women who have been abused, battered and abandoned by their families. But the best thing of all – You never squawk about it for your own personal glory nor do you look smug about your actions.”

After a pause he added, softly, almost in a whisper, “You are a good man John Watson. You’re humble, modest, sincere.”

As Sherlock said those words, he began to realize he really meant them. No longer was he acting or putting on some pretenses. The feelings he had earlier for Jim were shifting towards John and John had indeed turned out to be someone completely different from what he had expected. Not the grumpy, reclusive, money-minded, brusque, conniving billionaire but a real man with real problems and insecurities. He tightened his hold over John and said, “What do you want to do then? Is there something you really wish to do? If so, what is holding you back Jawn? Maybe we can iron out those impediments together. I know I am young, I have no clue about your past and how to act in a world you inhabit…. But at least I can offer moral support without biases and prejudices.”

“I…. I want to be a doctor…. I mean, I already am….” John stopped, looking a bit coy and awkward, “You can laugh at me now.”

Sherlock blinked, “Why?”

“Well, a thirty-four year old saying ‘I wanna be this’ and ‘I am this’, like some confused moron.”

“Okay, let me ask you clearly then. Are you a doctor? What kind?”

“I am a General Practitioner. I used to treat patients before, as an intern and then as a resident, but I no longer have the registered license.”

“Can you get one?”

  
“Yes, I can apply and I will get it back.”

“Do you want to do something beyond general practice?”

“Yes. I wish to be a surgeon. I mean, a general surgeon, both open and laparoscopy.”

Sherlock rolled over and lay atop John, “So then go ahead and become one. How long is the course? Do you like to study? I think so, I have seen you devour books by the hour. I am sure you won’t have a problem going back to textbooks and the lab. Be what you want to be.”

“But am I not too old….”

“OLD?” Sherlock sat up and laughed, “Nonsense! You know, my mum had given up on her ambitions when my brother was born and later, after I was born. She did her thesis in her forties. I think at the end of the day the results matter, not the age. Of course I won’t advise a seventy-nine year old to become an astronaut but if a girl of sixteen says she wants to start ballet lessons, I’ll advise her to go ahead and give it a shot.”

John sat up as well, “You really mean it?” Sherlock nodded, “Yeah, but first, tell me what stopped you from pursuing this path? You were working as a doctor, it’s a noble profession, then what made you give it all up?”

John took a deep breath and let out a joyless chuckle. “I was suddenly faced with too much emotional trauma. Sherlock, about seven years ago several things happened in my life. Wait, let me take a step back, the first blow I got was my mother’s death which happened eighteen years ago. I was her favorite, her refuge. She was my best friend and I was hers. When I lost her, that too due to suicide, I was inconsolable and lost. I became a total stranger to my own father. After years of being away from home and not talking to my dad for several of them, I suddenly got the news that he had died. That brought back fresh regret and guilt for me, that I had allowed one particular tragedy to prevail so much over my life that it resulted in another. Confused, uptight, not having anyone to lean on, mainly because of trust issues I always had, I made another blunder.”

Sherlock stared in open-eyed shock. John’s voice reflected so much self-loathing that he was rattled by the tone. He had no idea a man in such a privileged position could be so miserable, could hate himself, his past and his life so much.

John went on, looking rather disgusted with himself, “I was such a bastard. I married a woman despite knowing my affinity lay with me. Reason, she was the only one who stuck around. Naturally I realized my mistake and yet I could do nothing to correct it. The only thing I could do was try and reverse it. I set her free but she was scarred forever. For me she was a support, for her I had been the love of her life. So she, who was a nurse before, chose to get herself a degree in business management and support me with my work, be my friend and live close by, in the same house.”

Sherlock gasped, “Mary???”

“Yes. Mary Morstan was Mary Watson once. The best and most sincere and honest friend I ever had. Yet I just broke her, damaged her. That’s why I don’t allow people to come too close to me Sherl. I always end up damaging them. I am no good…. How can someone who’s such a negative influence on people ever heal them, ever be a good and efficient doctor.”

“Rubbish,” Sherlock objected, “You’re wrong.”

John stared in astonishment. No one had ever talked back to him like this. They were too afraid to lose his patronage. But this young, courageous man was changing the rules. He was simply being his honest self.

“John, we all make mistakes in life, take wrong decisions. That’s not a sin. None of them are. But they do become cardinal sins if you hold on to them and keep making a chain of repeated mistakes. What you just told me is tragic, sad, should have never happened that way, but it’s not something that doesn’t happen to people. What’s important is whether it makes you a better man or a bitter man.”

John grabbed Sherlock so suddenly and abruptly that the younger man almost reacted by pulling back. The look in those otherwise kindly eyes turned to steel for a moment, before his gaze became normal again. “Did I…. Did I say something wrong?” Sherlock asked. He was almost trembling. John smiled and kissed the tip of his nose, “Sorry about that! No, it’s not about what you said but what your words reminded me of. That was what my grandmother told me a few months ago. That’s the same thing my father kept telling me in his emails and letters all the while as I avoided him, didn’t reply, didn’t heed any of his requests and pleas to come and see him. I always knew, from the moment I met you, that there was something special about you. Now I am confirmed you are indeed…. Very special to me. You are a God-send Sherlock and you were meant to come into my life for a reason, a good and positive reason. Thank you!”

“But I haven’t done anything for you….”

“You have. And you just did, once again. You set me straight. I wish someone else had done that years ago. But it’s you, just you, who pulled it off.”

“I am glad that I was able to be of some help. So now would you…..”

The sounds of knocks on their door alerted them of someone’s presence there and the conversation ceased, for then. John got into some clothes and called out as he got into them, “Yeah who is it?”

“It’s me sir, Gretel.”

“What is it?”

“Mr. Bouffler has a visitor sir.”

John gave Sherlock a quizzical look, “Were you expecting someone?” Then he turned towards the door and called out again, “Gretel, come in but stay in the anteroom please.”

They heard the door open and close. Sherlock had also sprung out of bed and started to dress by then, his mind racking up all possible scenarios and people. Who had come to see him? Only two people knew he was here. One was of course, Greg Lestrade. But he wouldn’t have come to see only Sherlock. His purpose of visit would also be John. The only other one was James Isaac Moriarty. _Oh Lord, is Jim here?_

Sherlock had no clue why but the mere possibility of Jim paying him a visit made his bones melt, his skin crawl and his heart thump in his chest. Of late Jim’s behavior had been erratic and eccentric, filled with frustration, hate and demands. He could get Sherlock into trouble and ruin the whole thing with John.

Sherlock realized, with a sudden unraveling of facts in his brain, that he was not so concerned about Jim’s demands and expectations anymore, as he was worried about John’s mental health and overall wellbeing. The man had borne the brunt of many ill-events in his life and didn’t need one more blow. His throat had gone so dry he had to drink a tall glass of water to moisten it. He was so distracted that he spilled the last of the water and almost fell on the bed while trying to get into his track pants. Suddenly a strong hand grabbed him and steadied him. John’s caressing, kind and affectionate voice came into his ears. “Relax. Whoever it is, can’t be a cop with handcuffs ready. And yes, you are allowed to have a visitor or two if you so wish. Nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah.”

_You don’t know John. You have no idea what I was tasked to do and what I had agreed upon. I am also one of those who was about to betray you in the near future. But I won’t do that. Not anymore. Not after what you’ve done for me and the way you trusted and put faith on me._

“Gretel,” John said as he combed his hairs, “Who is this visitor? Sherlock wasn’t expecting anyone. Is there a name he gave you?”

“It’s not just one sir, but two. One of them you know. Your cousin. The other gentleman came with him and when he saw the photograph on your desk, he was quite surprised and said, ‘If my friend Sherlock is here then I’d like to see him’.”

“Oh,” John looked quite satisfied with the answer, “Tiger is here. Sherlock, it must be a common friend.”

“You have a photograph of me on your desk?” Sherlock asked. His heart was doing backflips in his chest. _Was that true?_

“Yes sir, I do. I was going to show you or maybe I was expecting you to notice it on your own. Remember the photo I snapped when you were jet skiing in our lake? The same one. I framed it and kept it on my desk at my home office. My cousin is welcome to walk around the house an enter any room, aside from my bedroom of course. So he must have gone in and his companion might have spotted your photo.”

“You are okay with people knowing me, that I am here, staying with you, in your house and bedroom?” Sherlock asked, taken aback. He thought John wanted to keep it discreet, considering the fact that this was an arrangement and not really something long-term or real. This was indeed a surprise for him, albeit a very pleasant one.

John didn’t seem to have the temerity to just boldly declare yes. He was emerging from his shell, but only just. It was a big effort for him and it showed.

“Well baby boy, only a month ago I didn’t think that way and would have kept you hidden like the Lochness monster,” he said in a tone that was shy, awkward, filled with a bit of hesitation, “But I have been observing you at close quarters for a while now and you have conquered my initial inhibitions, as well as my reservations about people, friendships and relationships. Your spirit, your openness to experiences, your way of looking at things and people have transformed me darling doll. I think I can take a few baby steps now, to be a better and more open-minded person. So yes, I will introduce you to people, beginning with some of the closest ones. Don’t expect too much too soon though, but I will keep trying, I promise you that.”

Whatever fears and inhibitions Sherlock had, the nerves that were bothering him, vaporized into thin air and he was filled with a warm, cozy, confidence of being loved and wanted, of being respected. He had never felt this respected and worthy before. “Jawn….”

“Baby boy….”

They kissed, putting their arms around each other. The gentle, light kiss deepened, as if often happened whenever they got into a lip-lock and for more than a minute they just stood there looking into each other’s eyes. If Gretel thought they were taking too long to get ready and come out, she didn’t hurry them up nor did she show any signs of impatience. “Alright,” John pulled back after a long time, “We really gotta go downstairs now.”

“Only one thing,” Sherlock winked.

“What?”

“We need to brush our teeth.”

  
“Oh yes…. Well said!”

They came downstairs hand in hand, smiling and looking forward to the visitors and the day ahead. But a sudden and loud crack of thunder made Sherlock jump. The weather had worsened in the past half hour. A window in the house slammed hard and noisily.

But the worst was yet to come. As they entered the den, two men rose from the couch to greet them. While John wished them pleasantly, Sherlock’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw who the visitors were. Sebastian Moran and Jim, _his Jim._


	10. The Blackmailing begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sherl, meet my second cousin once removed, Sebastian Augustus Moran."

“Hello cuz,” Sebastian smiled like a shark. His teeth, set in a perfect row, were dazzling white. Sherlock hadn’t noticed it the last time he’d seen him in that men’s room at the theater. For a moment, as that smiling face turned towards him, he thought he saw one tooth sparkle, much like one would see in cartoons or read about in novels.

But that smile had nothing pleasant about it, not did it reflect happiness. It was sinister, sharp, sly, it almost cut through Sherlock’s skin as it focused on him for a bit longer than necessary. John seemed quite pleased to see his cousin though and stepped up to give him a hug. They made quite the contrast as two brothers, nearly eight or nine inches difference between them in terms of height.

“Good to see you Tiger,” John said, slapping Sebastian on the back and turning towards Sherlock, “Sherl, meet my second cousin once removed, Sebastian Augustus Moran. Sebastian is about two years younger than me and has recently taken voluntary retirement from the army. He rose to the position of a colonel due to his exceptional brilliance and also because he’s from the Royal Military Academy, the one which churns out only a few capable, braved, valiant men a year but they all join in officer ranks. Decorated officer, a brilliant writer and a former Olympic medal winner in pistol shooting, my brother is truly an amazing man. He is actually my father’s cousin’s son. His mum Rosamunde and my granny Rosalie are sisters. We share common great grandparents.”

Sherlock stared, unblinking at Jim.

Jim was acting as if he didn’t know Sherlock at all. He was standing closely behind Sebastian, a little shy, a bit reticent to even smile or talk, as if he wasn’t sure of his welcome here. But Sherlock knew that was not true. Jim could enter Buckingham Palace and make himself at home there. This was again one of his games, an act over which the curtain rose or fell according to his whims and fancy. He was in control and manipulative as ever.

But Sherlock was worried. _Why was he even here?_

“Sherlock?” John touched his shoulder.

“Huh?” Sherlock blinked hard, trying to focus.

“Tiger…. I mean my cousin Sebastian is saying ‘hi’ to you.”

“Oh sorry, hello. I am Sherlock.”

“Hmmm, nice to meet you Sherlock,” Sebastian gave him a once-over glance before adding, “I don’t blame you though. Whenever people see Jim, they kind of get lost for a few moments. He is a very attractive man and he has something magical about him, doesn’t he? Can’t ignore.”

Sherlock blushed. “No, I was told that someone with you…. Knows me and is here to see me, so I was confused. I can’t remember if I have met Jim or if we had connected online for some reason. That’s why I was very puzzled. Forgive me.”

“Oh nothing to forgive about this, c’mon,” Sebastian seemed to make a lighthearted joke of it, obviously acting and pretending as much as Jim was, “As I said, he does have that kind of appeal. Anyways, good to meet you too! Actually, you need to forgive me, both of you.”

John gave him a confused look, as did Sherlock who hadn’t expected that answer at all. Jim giggled softly and made a helpless gesture. He came across as cute, endearing and charming, just as he used to be when Sherlock had fallen under his spell. Sebastian spoke on his behalf, wrapping an arm around Jim’s shoulder. “You see, Jim is with me. He doesn’t know you at all Sherlock, neither has he connected with either of you, online or otherwise. It was me who pulled that trick, or prank, or whatever you may call it. I saw your photograph on John’s desk Sherlock and was determined to meet you right away, so I said you have a visitor. Johnny boy, please don’t tell me the marriage has happened already. I was not hoping to be the best man, but I’d have loved to sit in the front pew, at least.”

John shook hands politely with Jim and turned to his cousin. “No, we have only recently begun to see each other. No wedding bells yet. Whenever there are plans, trust me I shall definitely let you know. Sherlock and I met online, we have since become quite close and I am exploring the possibilities of a relationship with him.” He then proceeded to sing praises of Sherlock, including his academic brilliance, ambitions to be an entrepreneur, the fact that he had been so good for his business and life and lifestyle. The more he spoke, the more Jim’s eyes glittered and he kept stealing glances at Sherlock constantly, as if both satisfied but also eager for more. Sherlock squirmed in his chair, eager for this façade to end and to meet Jim in private so he could find out what the hell was going on.

_That chance came soon enough._

“So then Jim,” John asked, turning his attention towards the other guest, “What do you do? Are you also working with Tiger or are you two dating?”

“No, Jim is dating….” Sherlock started to speak, causing all three heads to turn towards him.

John narrowed his eyes, “Sorry, what was that?”

“I meant to say, yes, I think Jim and Sebastian are dating. It’s very clear, isn’t it?” Sherlock quickly managed to make a turnaround and prevent the situation from taking a disastrous turn.

“Ah, that way,” John looked back at his cousin and Jim, “Yes, even I think the body language suggests just that. Since when?”

“Two years, a little more than that really,” Jim answered, the sugary politeness in his honeyed voice making Sherlock cringe.

John guffawed, “You have changed a lot Tiger. We used to be so close as kids and teens but since then your life has been shrouded in mystery bro! Dating for more than two years and now we get to know! When were you planning to tell me, huh?”

“Oh well, I wanted to but ever since I joined the army about ten years ago and right up until last year, when I retired, I hardly was able to lead the sort of life that civilians consider normal,” Sebastian sipped his coffee and smiled, “Excellent coffee. Balinese I suppose, huh? Nothing but the best for my cousin Mr. John Watson!!! So about Jim, yeah, well, we met about two and half years ago when I was injured and recovering. We stayed in touch and it’s because of him that I retired early and decided to start off a new life. I was waiting for things to get on track, for the plans to be fully developed, all its moving parts in motion, then bring him over so you can meet your future brother in law. Jim, I hope you have no further grievances, see, I introduced you to my family.”

“Don’t you have any other family members?” Sherlock asked him sharply.

“Did. No more. Mum and dad are both gone,” Sebastian answered without remorse.

“I think we should allow the cousins to catch up,” Jim suddenly proposed, exactly what Sherlock was expecting the cunning man to do, “There must be so much to talk about and we don’t need to hear all of that really! Hey Sherlock, will you show me around? I mean, it’s such a huge and gorgeous property, so vast and expansive and aesthetic. So pretty, scenic and clean and well-maintained too. I’d love to see parts of it.”

Loud thunderclaps and the sounds of rain outside dampened their plans.

“I think you can show him around the house darling,” John suggested, “Not the right time to explore the outdoors Jim. It’s raining cats and dogs and umbrellas and raincoats are not going to be of any help at all.”

“Right said. Indoors it will be then.”

“Maybe next time I can show you around, including the mini zoo, the cheese factory and the golf course.”

“Oh yes that sounds great. Would love to do that someday. Don’t worry John, I am sure I will be back soon.”

John smiled a genuine smile but Sherlock shivered at the mere implication behind those words. He rose to his feet swiftly and gestured at the door, “Alright, shall we?”

***

“What the fuck is going on?”

Sherlock had waited until they were in the attic, where there were scant chances of anyone trespassing or overhearing them. He had been tired of pretending, wary of Jim’s mind games and Sebastian turning out to be John’s cousin was the proverbial last straw for him. He was angry and annoyed and didn’t make any attempt at hiding his feelings and raw emotions.

Jim acted with cool calculation and complete control, as he was used to, as Sherlock knew him to be. He pushed Sherlock back against the door and stood on tiptoes to kiss him hungrily on the mouth. At first Sherlock was shocked, then he fell into the honeytrap and kissed back, before it occurred to him that Jim didn’t mean any love here. He was simply displaying one of those ‘power-play’ moments where he had Sherlock right under his thumb! He disengaged quickly but not before Jim had bitten him on the lower lip, rather painfully. The copper taste of blood hit his tongue, as did the familiar scent assault his nostrils and Sherlock yelped and pulled back from Jim, clutching at his mouth. It hurt. It really did. For all his other faults and dominating habits, he had never been treated like this by Jim.

“What’s wrong with you,” Sherlock licked at the sore spot and went to a mirror to check. Shit, John would most definitely notice. In the mirror he saw Jim grinning and turned to face him, “What the hell is wrong with you, asshole?”

Jim scowled, “What did you say?”

Sherlock snarled, “What did you just do?”

“I did what you deserved. It’s been five fucking long weeks and you are no closer to the goal than you were before. I had to come by and take a stock of things. Instead of finding out where and what we can rob, you fucking spend your useless days and your even more useless life in that fellow’s bed??? You lousy, lazy-arse, two-timing, weakling of a scum!”

“Jim, I am warning you….”

“Of what? What exactly are you warning me about? What do you think John will think if he gets to know what you’re really here for and that you and I have been together for two years already? Don’t you forget, Sebby is his cousin and his word will always hold over yours. Seb will tell John that you had asked him to lie and present me as his boyfriend.”

“No….Noooo….”

“Yes, yessss!!!”

“Jim, please, don’t do this. He is a very good man.”

Jim tapped on his own chin and rolled his eyes slightly, making a gesture of thinking hard. Then he shrugged and said, “Oh maybe he is! I am sure he’s accumulating karma will ensure he remains a billionaire for the rest of his life. Believe me, it won’t even hurt him a bit if we take out a few drops from a huge reservoir. Just tell me, what kind of assets does he have on him? What is kept in the house?”

“I haven’t had enough time to find all that out yet…..” Sherlock began when Jim leered at him evilly. “I am sure you know. If he’s started to show you off as a possible partner then I am totally sure he must have at least shown where the jewelry and expensive art are kept.”

He isn’t even happy to see me after thirty seven days. He is just focused on the loot. Is this the same Jim I fell in love with and who promised to be with me till the very end? Sherlock shook his head, “I-I haven’t any idea, believe me. I didn’t get a chance to ask him about such things…..” But before he could finish, Jim interrupted him and hissed, grabbing him by the collar of his T-shirt. “No silly, no, you _won’t ask such things_ , those are for you to _discover_. You have to find that out, figure it all out. Now stop being a wuss, put your brain to work and tell me where I can find a couple of nice, priceless things to grab. Don’t gawk at me like an idiot, I am asking you something man, give me an answer.”

“You aren’t even gonna ask me how am I doing? Does it not hurt you that your fella is sleeping with someone else?”

Jim snarled, then asked in a condescending tone. “ _Hey Sherlylocks, how are you doing?_ Also, no hurt feelings here. For years you didn’t even let me fuck you or fucked me when I needed it. I never said a word in protest, I played along. Why? Because I knew my baby will be useful to me in some way, in the future. Now that future is here and I want my pound of flesh you idiot. Don’t you realize that the sooner you have the money the sooner you can leave?”

“Jim… I am…. I am trying….”

“Well, try harder then.”

“I-I could get you some money.”

Jim’s eyes glowed, “How? And how much can you get me?”

“Maybe around fifty grand. That’s my share of the money I have left.”

“Nah, it’s five hundred or else you’ll be sorry.”

“No, no, no, I am not reneging on our agreement,” Sherlock stopped him, “I promised five million and you will get five million. But I need a little more time. For now, I’ll try and get you something. There is a room downstairs, the wing where his mummy used to stay. There is a store room and there they’ve stashed quite a bit of jewels and art. It’s difficult to get the paintings out because they’re too big but maybe some of the gemstones. I’ll try and get hold of the gemstones.”

“Fifty grand tomorrow and the gemstones in a week,” Jim spoke in a tone of warning, “I shall settle for nothing less than that.”

“Jimmy please wait a moment….” Sherlock tried to reason with him but Jim turned and left, whistling a tune and looking all happy and smiley, as if nothing untoward had happened right now and they were merely taking a stroll around the house. Sherlock chased after him but his footsteps came to a halt when he spotted Gretel, standing right there at the bottom of the staircase, on the landing which led to the southern wing of the house and its hallways. “Heya old goose,” Jim said in a sarcastic manner, making her gasp, and skipped downstairs to join Sebastian and John. Sherlock followed, much slower and his steps measured, eyes firmly cast on the floor lest the old maid spotted something in them.

***

“Huhhhhhh!!!”

“Sherlock? Baby? What’s the matter honey? Wake up. You’re having a nightmare! Snap out of it now, open your eyes!”

A glass of water was handed to him but when his hands shook violently, firm steady hands took it from him and the rim of the glass was pressed to his mouth. Sherlock felt hot and cold at the same time, his lips and throat were dry, he was reeling from the shock of the nightmare and unable to even speak, his eyes and cheeks wet, his limbs shaking jerkily, he was a complete mess. But with John’s soothing touches, the caressing, assuring voice, several gulps of the cool water and Sherlock returned to the land of the living again.

He stared around the room, relieved. He was back where he belonged, in John’s bed and the man right beside him. He was not in some strange, orange colored field, watching people being killed, hearing Jim’s voice in his head giving instructions, seeing John standing at some distance and Sebastian about to hack him down with a big shiny axe! The blood, the gore! The way some scream echoed around him! “J-Jawn…. I was so…..”

“It’s okay, you’re fine now, I got you baby boy.”

Cool wet towels were pressed to his forehead and his neck. John put several pillows together to help him half-lie, half sit against the headboard. “Thanks,” Sherlock panted, trying to rid himself of the remaining images from that horrid dream. “Want to talk about it?” John asked sincerely.

“Actually,” Sherlock decided to use this moment to his advantage, even though his soul tore him apart for this deceit, “I was worried about my aunt. She is in trouble. She needs help. She needs to get some organ transplant and aftercare…. It will cost her half a million bucks.”

***

Sherlock stared in both relief and dismay as John signed the cheque without batting an eyelid. “Tell her to get health insurance as well,” the young billionaire said with a happy smile. This was the same smile Sherlock saw on him whenever he did any philanthropy, except he seemed even happier this time.

“Th-Thanks…. I don’t know how I am going to repay you though….” Sherlock stammered, swallowing the rest of the words that came up. _You still have time John, just change your mind, say you don’t wanna give the money but pay the bills instead. I’ll handle Jim somehow._

_No silly, you can’t. The Jim you knew and loved is gone. What’s left is a shell of the same man, with a huge load of toxic qualities inside, including greed and extortion. He won’t let go until he has had his pound of flesh._ “I don’t think you are required to repay this,” John’s voice cut through his reverie, “I am helping an old lady in need, not buying you a customized Harley or something. I do believe that the disproportionate amount of wealth that I possess should at least be partially utilized for the greater good. The only thing I insist on checking and verifying is if it’s truly for someone needy. In this case however….” He handed the cheque to Sherlock, “There is no need for verification.”

“Don’t you at least want to know the details?”

“No. I am a bit out of touch with the medical and surgery world but from what I remember last, this must be a multiple organ transplant and recovery process. Would easily take up to six to eight months, so it will also involve hospice care. Then there’s the expensive health insurance that she must take on, so she’s not compromised in this way again. Just fill in the rest of the details and send it to her as soon as you can. Mary or Gretel can help.”

“Sure…. Thanks again.”

“Hey?”

Sherlock looked at John balefully.

John winked, “I know why you’re sad.”

“You do?”

John nodded, “Yup! Next Monday…. Alright, forget it, I will surprise you instead.”

Though Sherlock didn’t quite get what the older man meant, he didn’t dwell on it. He quickly walked out of John’s study and texted Jim. _Collect the cheque from me from the largest bookstore in the town center, ‘Papyrus’ – SH_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim is still the mastermind. Sebastian is a support and an informer, but planting Sherlock in John's life and home is Jim's handiwork and his brainchild.


	11. A Cunning Plan unfolds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jim and Sebastian show their true faces and intentions, Sherlock unwillingly steps into a trap

Jim snatched the cheque from him so fast that Sherlock was left staring at his own empty hand. He blinked at his boyfriend and huffed, “Oh…. Well, you are welcome!”

“You don’t expect me to thank you for doing something that even you shall be a part of,” Jim said rudely, “Now go get me a nice Hazelnut Cafe Latte with almond biscotti and oh yes, get me a bottle of still water and some mints too.”

Reeling under the irritation of being ordered about and remote-controlled like some clockwork mouse, Sherlock decided to get it over and done with. He had left the Watson ranch/hamlet on his own for the first time and he intended to spend some time buying a gift for John. No way was he going to just waste time with Jim, so the latter could keep condescending him constantly. He got the food and water and mints on a tray, choosing a small espresso for himself, and half slammed it on the table between their two chairs. “Go on, gobble up,” he scathed, “Do you want to buy the café too? Maybe I could convince John to buy a café as well, since he is so wealthy after all.”

“Well,” Jim sipped his coffee with relish, “He is.”

“Not that it’s any of our business. It’s his money. He didn’t take any from us.”

“What will you say next? He owes us nothing? Well, who cares what he owes or owns? I just want to take a few wee drops from his tank and make our lives better. Now don’t give me that pitiful look of disgust. I am not the only one who’s in on this plan, you had agreed too.”

“I did. But the agreement was that I would get six months and I have to do it at my own pace, not with you constantly breathing down my neck and threatening me. Besides, how did you just show up suddenly at the mansion huh? That was not part of the pact and Sebastian…. How did that blond oaf get into the equation. You have been cooking up something behind my back and we happen to be boyfriends, we are partners.”

“Partners-in-crime,” Jim corrected him, “What’s the harm in having another accomplice? He can provide valuable help.”

“I don’t need help….”

  
“Oh yes you do. Else you’d have got us the five million already.”

“It’s only been six weeks, damnit. It wasn’t supposed to be such a tight timeline.”

“I changed my mind Sherly boo,” Jim snickered, “I am not going to wait for months to get my hands on something that’s lying around in abundance in that mansion. I saw some paintings, I saw silver and goldware that are worth millions and I have only seen the tip of the iceberg.”

“Jim I am not….” Sherlock tried to protest but something happened right then that told the green-eyed man that his relationship and association with Jim was a far more dangerous and risky proposition than he had otherwise assumed. Out of the blue appeared Sebastian. The otherwise charming handsome hunk appeared very menacing with his imposing height and bulging muscles as he pulled a chair and joined them at their table.

“He giving you trouble sweets?” He asked Jim, touching his cheek.

Sherlock gaped at the gesture. _Did that just happen and that too right under my nose? Did that bastard just touch my man and is Jim giggling and blushing and allowing that, in fact enjoying that? And why am I not as dismayed as I thought? Why am I not even jealous? Oh fuck, my brain is giving me strange signals nowadays._ “Nah Sebby baby,” Jim cooed, breaking off half of the biscotti and offering it to Sebastian who almost popped Jim’s finger into his mouth while accepting the treat. “Don’t be afraid Sherlylocks,” Jim said in his sing-song voice, putting his feet right up on the brunette’s lap, “Sebby is a bit possessive about me. For a good reason too! You see babe, I am his goldmine and that’s all thanks to you!!! He needs the same thing from John as what we need – Money, money, more money, still more money, plenty of money, lots of money…. Ha, haha!!!”

Sherlock exhaled hard, “This is news. I am supposed to be fixing our future, not his.”

“You need to do that now.”

“No, what for? It’s none of our business.”

“Well, if we don’t help him soon we both shall be out of business and you might be in jail.”

Sherlock blinked, “What? What do you mean? How can that happen?”

Sebastian pulled his chair closer to Sherlock’s and loomed even closer by leaning in. Unaccustomed to taller, broader people, the six foot one inch Sherlock instinctively pushed his own chair backwards. “Stay back, don’t dare to touch me,” he hissed in warning.

“You see Sherlock,” Sebastian’s shark-like grin was back, “I am in need of money. Not everyone in the family is rich. But I was born rich and have acquired expensive hobbies and exclusive tastes. Therefore I need money to sustain them. The money I make from my pension, my books and my work as a shooting team’s coach for the Olympics, it’s peanuts. I spend it all in a week.”

“I fail to see how your idiocy in money-management is any of our problem,” Sherlock snapped.

“Well, it will be if I tell John the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me God,” Sebastian raised his right hand in the manner of taking an oath.

“He will do that Sherly, don’t antagonize him baby,” Jim said as he finished the last of his coffee and uncapped the bottle of water, “Then we will not only be left with nothing, he can find ways of destroying you completely. John has a lot of power and contacts, thanks to his family money, family name and his own cunning ways of building a network.”

“He is no angel,” Sebastian continued, “He has invested in companies that are cutthroat and only care about profits, not people. He had made his real estate agents pick up properties at dirt cheap prices, all distress sales. He has acquired stolen paintings at throwaway prices.”

“I don’t see any of those things as illegal,” Sherlock retorted, not about to give in to this logic of blaming John for things he wasn’t directly involved in, “He is an investor and as long as the company is registered, listed on the stock exchange and doesn’t produce illegal goods I don’t see how the company’s management and culture is John’s handiwork. Similar for the real estate deals. When people sell in a distress, they still agree to the figure proposed. In some cases it saves them from bankruptcy or some other problem. There is no swindling there. Stolen paintings, well, if they are being auctioned off then it will go to the highest bidder. That doesn’t mean the one who buys become a thief by some weird shit of theory of relativity.”

“Oooh, he is good,” Sebastian winked at Jim.

“Wait, how did you even know about this arrangement?” Sherlock questioned, glancing between Jim and Sebastian.

“He overheard us,” Jim said coolly, “Remember we were celebrating your selection at the nightclub. He was around.”

“But what kind of a friend blackmails….?”

“Oh he is asking for a share, not blackmailing.”

“You better be off,” Sebastian got up from the chair, “They will start missing you at the Watson Village, as we call it. James, come on, we have some other work to attend to. Example, getting this cheque to the bank. I shall be receiving a cut. And by the way, I am going to be extremely useful for you Sherlock so stop hating on me like a spoilt brat. You see, my dear brother is making some legal deeds to transfer a lucrative, coveted plot. It’s worth many millions, more than you can even count at the tip of your fingers.”

“What does that have anything to do _with me?”_ Sherlock frowned.

“You shall see _soon,”_ Sebastian winked.

Jim kissed Sherlock on his chin and the corner of his lips, suggestively brushed his rear against his arm and walked off with Sebastian tailing him like a faithful hound. Sherlock wanted to follow them but he didn’t deem it worthy. He was actually glad they had left, _including Jim._

***

“This is delicious,” John said in a pleased tone, “Really nice! You will get a nice tip for this. It’s been ages since I ate something that’s healthy and yet so delicious.”

His private chef blushed, “Part of the credit goes to Mr. Bouffler.”

John’s eyes widened, “Sherlock?!?” The chef nodded and showed him a few items, “Sir, Mr. Bouffler felt we waste too much food and cook too many greasy items, things which are not right for everyday consumption. So he spoke to a nutritionist, showed her your blood and other reports, spoke to your personal trainer and helped me change the whole meal planning process and ingredients. He helped me get online training, bought me books, new vessels that require very less to almost no oil or fat to cook food….. he has even given meal suggestions by day. Only one day a week you can indulge, the rest of the days it’s going to be only healthy and balanced meals from now on.”

“This is delicious,” John said with a look of wonder on his face, “It doesn’t feel much different. Oh wow, Sherlock did all of this? Since when has he been helping you out?”

“For a week almost sir.”

“Amazing. Thanks a lot. You still get the tip though.”

“Thank you sir.”

With a huge smile John went to check on Sherlock so he could thank him too but the youngster was not in the bedroom or the den he normally frequented. When John couldn’t find him anywhere in the house and even his phone went unanswered, the blond man felt a panic he hadn’t felt since a long time. Not since I lost mum. I am just as scared to lose him now. Gosh, this boy is an enchanter. He has simply taken my heart and soul away and he hold my fate in the palm of his hand.

“Eckhart,” John called his butler impatiently after half an hour of futile searching.

“Yes John?” The valet was the only one who was allowed to call him by his Christian name. The man had literally brought him up and played with him, fed him and bathed him. John trusted him and allowed him liberties no one else got.

“Sherlock, have you seen him anywhere?”

“Yes. I was with him and Jared, the gardener.”

“Oh! Well, what… so where… _where is he now?”_

He saw the hesitation clearly written on Eckhart’s face and frowned, “You do remember you work for me, don’t you? What is it that you’re hiding? I want to know and you need to tell me now Eckhart, you have to tell me right now.”

“Alright sir,” Eckhart checked his watch and nodded to himself, “I think I can take you there. I can show you.”

“Take me there, show me, what is that?” John was puzzled but followed the man as he led him out of the dining room and straight up the staircase, towards the bedroom suites. But instead of taking him towards the bedroom he shared with Sherlock, the trusted retainer took him to the other wing, the same one where his mother and sister used to live. “Who opened this door, who dared to….?” John fumbled over his words, part angry and part shocked. This room was out of bounds for everyone barring himself. How on earth did Sherlock think it was okay to open this room and walk inside, as if he could change the decree issued by John?! A bit upset, he sulkily stepped inside the room.

_And froze._

The entire room had been done up exactly the way his mother used to prefer.

Jaw sweeping the floor, eyes like saucers, John watched in stunned silence as a marvel unfolded before his wide eyes. From the bed spread to the curtains, the rug to the color on the wall, the incandescent lighting and even the orchids displayed in vases of various shapes and colors, the room was now clean, airy, fragrant and colorful. It was in fact so vibrant that for a moment John felt like his seven year old self. Whenever he used to walk into his mum’s bedroom he always felt he was entering wonderland.

“Sherlock!!!”

Sherlock straightened the last photograph on the wall and gave him a broad grin, “The family wall, I call it.”

“The family wall,” John murmured.

“I curated and put up pics you would love, anyone in the family would adore. Do you like it?”

“Yes, I love it, in fact.”

John turned towards the now-grinning butler and said softly, emotionally, “It’s alright Eckhart, you can leave us now.”

Once the butler had left, John pulled Sherlock into his arms and kissed him hard on the lips. Sherlock moaned softly into the kiss and wrapped a leg around John’s hip. Despite the fact that he was taller, somehow John seemed to tower over him due to his authority, age and personality and Sherlock always liked climbing him, being lifted and horsed around in those strong, assuring and able arms. John’s strength was deceptive, as was his masculinity. Neither was toxic, it was just enough to be virile and attractive and had the softened, sensitive edge to it that kept him likeable and affectionate.

“You like the room, the way I did it up?” Sherlock asked eagerly, breathless from the kiss, “I thought it would be nice to keep her memories alive, the good ones, the happy ones. Shutting them up in a trunk or chest only makes them toxic, makes them putrefy. This way it’s fresh, healing and beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you my magician,” John rubbed noses with him and made him sit down on a cushioned seat, “You have accomplished so much in such a short time. My diet, the recipes, the garden, this room, Good Lord baby boy, you turned out to be an old soul after all. Not a typical shallow twenty-four year old but a mature, wise kid. No, you’re no kid. Definitely not a kid. You have far more insight into me and my mind than even I do!!!” He looked around the room and knelt between Sherlock’s long legs, gently parting them by the knees, “And now I feel like rewarding you in a way that only I can…. Something they won’t find in any bank account or some designer store.”

“Such as?” Sherlock winked, grinning naughtily.

John palmed the front of his trousers, making him moan, “Such as doing the perfect 69?”

Sherlock gasped, “Not here.”

“Of course. It feels weird, it also feels like she is watching us.”

“Definitely back to our room then.”

“Nope. Not that either.”

“Then?” Sherlock stared at John in bafflement, “Where do you wanna….???”   
  


***

John was sure that if he were any more aroused or happier than this, he'd be twins. Sherlock’s hot and slippery mouth, that wicked tongue, it was wrapped around his hard length, sucking him so good that he felt even his brains would drip out through his dick.

He had three fingers inside Sherlock and was lightly sucking the head of the latter’s cock, knowing that the younger man had less controls than he did. He had improved over the past six odd weeks but was still a greenhorn as compared to him.

They were lying on the couch in one of the dens, with strict instructions left with the retainers to ‘NOT DISTURB’ them. The door was open, there was no one else in the wing, and all of that combined to give them an additional dose of kink. If anyone dared to break the rules and orders and came anywhere close, they’d hear them, both of them. For once, John was just as noisy as Sherlock, not making any effort to rein in the moans, grunts, yelps, groans and hissing sounds that spilled out in a constant outpour.

“Mmmhhhhh,” Sherlock wailed around John’s thick cock, sending delicious vibrations around the older man’s groin, tremors rising up his stomach and spine and down his thighs and calves.

His legendary self-control ditched him that day and when Sherlock’s tongue pressed upon the prominent vein on the side of his enormous length, John knew he was done for. His orgasm came towards him, thundering like a storm and as wet and pelting as the torrential downpour. It blinded him, swept through him like a tidal wave and before he knew it he was cumming so hard he almost lost consciousness. Bolts of extreme pleasure traveled through his body, the entire length of him, sparks igniting in his brain and toes curling automatically. His entire frame shook and his mouth watered for some reason as he felt his semen travel in a glorious rush towards the tip of his cock _. I wanna taste him too, I want us to taste each other simultaneously._

He doubled his efforts at sucking the younger man and crooked his fingers to touch upon the sweet spot in the depths of his lover. A few insistent rubs and he felt the familiar jerk in Sherlock’s cock, followed by his thighs closing and pushing inwards and finally a series of erratic thrusts as Sherlock fucked his mouth to ecstasy. Low rolling moans vibrated around his cock and he let go, about a second after he felt the splatter and outpour of sweet semen on his tongue and then more spurts at the back of his throat.

Everything went fairly blurry and hazy as he came, releasing more and more semen down Sherlock’s throat, his hips stuttering and jerking, his free hand slapping against something next to them and throwing it on the ground.

Simultaneously one of Sherlock’s legs hit something too and something else crashed down. Their combined groans would have woken the dead had they not been partly muted and muffled by the thick lengths in their mouths. They felt glorious aftershocks post the blitzkrieg orgasm, then finally an ability to catch their breath as the sweet sensations of afterglow settled on them. Sherlock was very still and when an exhausted, sleepy and sated John managed to sit up, he saw what he had expected.

Sherlock had slept.

He needed a nap too and after throwing a light comforter over their naked frames, placing a couple of cushions under their heads, he settled down right next to his napping lover. There was hardly any space on the couch for two but they managed, holding on to each other, curling up at the right angles so they filled the space between each other’s limbs. Wiped out by the mammoth release and totally satiated for now, they slept heavily for the next whole hour.


	12. Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock hears someone lurking around
> 
> A blissful John professes his love

Sherlock was the first one to wake up. He randomly shook John by the shoulder. “Jawn?” “Hmm, mmm, what is it? Go back to sleep!” “No, someone was outside.” “Impossible, no one would come here.” “I thought I heard someone, towards your mother’s room.”

Not wanting to alarm himself but at the same time not sure he should ignore Sherlock’s insistent warnings, John sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking around. A huge yawn split his face nearly and he looked in the direction of the door. “I don’t hear anything now. Anyways, let me go and check. We had locked the door and no one else will really go in….. apart from you and me…..” He yawned again, a smile coming on to his face as he got up to get into his clothes. Memories of their coupling and the sight of his lover’s naked, white, long limbs was making him hard all over again, oh dear, he had no idea how much of a horndog he could be until Sherlock had walked into his life.

Minutes later he returned to the den and said, “No one. You had been dreaming baby boy.”

Sherlock was not so sure. He knew it wasn’t a dream when he saw someone peer in and moments later footsteps move towards the room John’s mother used to live in. He had even heard the door open and close. Something made his stomach turn. That room held treasures worth at least quarter of a billion. John just left them there as if they were peanuts but in reality those were heirlooms, those were memories of his late and beloved mum and therefore priceless. He didn’t want them stolen or removed.

“Hey,” John caressed the top of his head, “Get into your clothes. Remember, you were going to help me write a few emails, inviting people like me to join hands and eradicate some infectious diseases that keep plaguing children in the second and third world countries?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s finish them. We need to write all six of them in an hour’s time. After that I gotta go out for a few hours.”

“Now??? It’s almost six pm.”

“It is and I have to attend a dinner at eight-thirty. My return depends on how long the dinner and post-dinner conversations go so chances are that I will be pretty late in coming back home tonight. Perhaps past midnight, so don’t wait up for me. Go to sleep when you’re tired.”

Sherlock pouted, “You didn’t tell me….” He stopped, realizing that he didn’t have some rights there. For example, he couldn’t ask John for such gestures which only a real partner or fiancé could. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“No, fair demand it is,” John said, caressing the side of his face, “It’s a Sunday evening and you weren’t expecting this. Next time there will be a proper and timely warning. Or maybe the next dinner I attend will not be alone, but in company. Beautiful, gorgeous company.”

Then, as he saw Sherlock still staring in the direction of the hallway he started to dress Sherlock like a man would do to a boy and whispered, “Hey, don’t worry. This place is not haunted and it’s not my mamma walking down the corridors and hallways, opening and closing doors, listening to her son and his lover’s orgasmic moans!”

***

Sherlock was awake, even around midnight. He had retired to the room around an hour earlier than that but he was uneasy and couldn’t sleep. After pacing about the room for half an hour he had even taking a quick walk through the entire eastern and northern wings. There was no one at all, no signs of intrusion, no sounds anywhere. _I have started hearing things, imagining things. It’s just my nerves and nothing else. Maybe John was right about what he said, perhaps I was dreaming the whole thing about someone padding around the room._ Back in their bedroom again, he brushed and changed and climbed into bed, curled up with a book and hoped to doze off soon but sleep eluded him. He absentmindedly cuddled John’s pillow and sniffed it, inhaling the scent of his scalp and shampoo. 

He missed him terribly, much to his own shock. _You have to keep this impersonal, you cannot get involved._

As the huge antique grandfather clock began to chime downstairs, indicating it was 12 am, Sherlock finally gave up on the book and put it aside. He turned out the light and pulled the sheets over his head. _Must go to sleep. He will be back soon. I should not act like a newlywed. I am never going to marry him. No, correction, he will never marry me. I am a hired hand, I am supposed to pretend to be his bridegroom, I am NOT the real deal_. Closing his eyes shut, he tried to swallow the ball of emotions swirling up his chest and choking him, even contemplating popping in a sleeping pill to help him pass out, when…..

He heard a sound, in the anteroom.

Yes, this time he was sure he had heard it right.

_No mistakes. Someone was there. Even a light was on. But why was it flickering? Who was humming a tune?_

Sherlock grabbed a cricket bat from the closet and tiptoed towards the anteroom, holding his breath and keeping his instincts totally focused on launching a sudden attack. If it was some thief, they’d be beaten to a pulp. If it was someone from the house trying to prank him…..

“Hey, wait, wait!!!”

“JAWN! OH MY GOD! I almost hit you over the head. What are you trying to do, sneaking into your own bedroom like a thief???!!!”

John laughed out aloud and gently took the bat from Sherlock’s trembling hands. Then he pointed with a flourish at the coffee table and said, “What do you think of it, eh? Happy Birthday Sherlock!”

Sherlock stared in saucer-eyed astonishment, noticing the arrangements for the first time. On the table was a birthday cake shaped like a violin, something Sherlock loved to play, candles flickering on top of it. There was champagne and a variety of eatables, all of them Sherlock’s favorites, several gift packages completing the picture. There were also balloons and streamers, rose petals and flowers, the most romantic and elaborate setup one could organize. “Go on,” John insisted, “Happy birthday again. Blow out the candles, cut the cake, eat a slice, let’s pop the bubbly and then get going with the gifts.”

“This is too much….”

“No, I think this isn’t even enough. It’s my Sherl’s birthday after all.”

“Jawn….”

“Go on babe.”

Sherlock blew the candles out in a single effort and amidst John’s cheerful ‘happy birthday to you’ song, cut a slice of cake and fed a mouthful to John before tasting it himself. “Pineapple and chocolate,” he called out in a delighted tone, “Just what I love. How did you know?”

John didn’t answer right away, instead he handed Sherlock the champagne bottle. They popped it open and John filled two flutes. Raising a toast to Sherlock the older man murmured, “To you health, joy, happiness, ambitions, dreams – May they always be on track, may you always get to where you want to be! Also to us, our friendship and much more….” He stopped half way through the sentence and gave the younger man a meaningful look.

Sherlock saw that and interpreted it. John wanted something more. Goodness gracious even he did. Their dreams were synchronizing together, their today was merging, their tomorrow was getting accumulated in a single beautiful thread. His heart was warm with the glow of love.

_Love????!!!!!!!_

Yes, he was falling in love. No, he had _already fallen in love._

“Open your gifts,” John insisted.

There was an expensive branded watch but what made Sherlock gasp was the Stradivarius violin in the second package. His hands shook as he held it, his eyes widest possible, his voice choked up as he asked, “This is the real thing…. There are only a handful in this world…. This is way too much Jawn. Too pricey…. You really shouldn’t have done this. I-I can’t accept it. I’ll just keep the watch.”

“Jesus Christ,” John kissed his cheek and Sherlock babyishly leaned into his man’s arms, resting his cheek against John’s chest, “Sherlock you and I both know I am not poorly. I didn’t take a loan to buy this. I got it from a collector who parted with it in exchange for a Picasso I had.”

Sherlock was overwhelmed. As he struggled to find the right words to respond, John showed him something else that turned his world upside down. It was a simple set of papers that emerged from the third gift package and John gently placed it in Sherlock’s hands and said, “A long time ago my great grandfather had purchased this plot. But it ran into disputes due to one of his sons enmity with a local goon. Things kept going into loops and circles and for years, over fifty years, it was a disputed area. My current lawyer is a genius and he managed to finally get the huge plot back for us. Today it’s a developed area and its price has boomed. What was bought for half a million is now worth a hundred million.”

“Oh…. Ka-ay….” Sherlock wasn’t sure which way it was going. He just waited for John to finish.

“You see, when my mum married into this family and came home for the first time, my grandma, the one who lives in the other part of the house, she gave her a chest filled with jewels. They had been acquired from a few maharajas in India, during the colonial days. Those were paid as Taxes and Commissions and my great-great granddad got his own cut, an impressive one. All of that was handed over to my mum, guess why?”

“Why?”

“In our family, we want anyone who steps into it by way of marriage or relationships, to feel equal and solvent, to feel a part of the family fortunes and have enough to be independently wealthy. In today’s world of prenups it seems like a crazy idea but by now you know I am a bit old fashioned that way. I believe that if you love someone, you trust them. And you have earned my trust and love.”

“Jawn, what exactly are you trying to tell me?”

“I want you to meet nana in a few days,” John said warmly, lovingly, “I want you to feel equal, wealthy, well-positioned with this….. It’s a custom, followed over generations. I am merely following it. This plot has been transferred to your name Sherl. This 100 million quid plot is yours now. You are the only owner. I am merely a nominee, that too because my other lawyer wouldn’t allow a transfer without this clause.”

Sherlock felt his chest clench in a painful way. Here was a man, trusting him blindly, giving him so much, and there he was, ready to betray his trust, lying to him, manipulating him and conniving all along. What kind of a creep was he? What kind of an arsehole had he become? Sherlock struggled to hold back his tears but John said something right after, which broke all his dams in an instant.

“You must have guessed by now…. I love you William Sherlock Scott Bouffler!”

Sherlock made a choked, strangled sound and fell into John’s arms, sobbing mutely and hyperventilating at the same time. He was so shocked by this move and felt so much self-loathing at that point, that he didn’t have words to say nor thoughts to share. He just hated himself, he felt afraid, disgusted, his head was reeling and everything began to spin around him. He heard John asking him if he was okay before he half-collapsed, half clasped on and at the older man. “Baby are you all right? Are you okay? Sherlock, please baby boy, speak to me! Hon, you are just trembling all over, do you need a medicine…. Oh man, your pulse… Sherlock do you have any particular medical condition? I can treat you….”

  
_“No-No-No!”_

“Okay, breathe, relax, have some water, look at me, focus on me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

Sherlock took a long moment to respond to that and when he did, only words straight from the heart came out. Clutching at John, tremors still shaking his willowy frame, his lips quivering and his eyes watery, he managed to gasp out the words that he knew to be the absolute truth.

“I love you.”

***

Soft, lingering moans came out of Sherlock as he lay on his back, John on top of him and thrusting into him, slow but deep.

The bed shook gently, just like the gentle breeze that blew across the room, Sherlock’s eyes kept tearing up and droplets rolled down the side of his face as he wrapped his arms and legs around his lover, wishing he could just disappear somehow into John.

When all other attempts to soothe him had failed, John had chosen to calm him down by the only way he knew – make slow, gentle and passionate love to him. With the first few kisses and caresses Sherlock had indeed calmed down and when John prepared him, he was almost back to normal. With the first thrust of his entrance, John had not just claimed his body but also his soul and the tears were back in Sherlock’s eyes, still, this time around he felt stronger and abler in terms of coping with his reality.

A reality beyond his dreams. A reality he was not going to give up on. A reality that was magical and for him to nurture. Yes, it was his new reality and he would hold on to it with both hands, he would hold on to his John with both hands. Sometime over the past few weeks John had created space in his heart and dislodged Jim from there. That, coupled with Jim’s greedy and demanding and insensitive behavior had finally given Sherlock the reasons to break off with one man and be with another.

Not for money, but because John was a much better human being, a man he truly respected and adored.

“Ummmhhh!” John groaned with pleasure as Sherlock’s inner muscles gripped his manhood even tighter, the younger man gripping him harder with his long, flowing limbs. John suckled on one of Sherlock’s nipples before lavishing attention to a particularly sensitive spot on the long column of his neck. He was floating in bliss, caught in that space where he wanted release but also didn’t want the journey to end, not so soon. Of all his favorite things in the world, being inside and on top of Sherlock was what he craved the most. It was so intimate, it felt so good, so honest, true and beautiful! Words couldn’t express how awesome his life had become since Sherlock had stepped into it and _he never wanted to let go of this man! Never!_

“Ohhh,” Sherlock arched his back, pressure building in his balls, the veins in his cock throbbing as John bore down enough on him to give it some needed friction. He raised his hips, seeking more, then pushed down on the thick cock, bottoming out completely.

“You’re breathtaking, you’re perfect,” John said in a voice laced with wonder, nuzzling the sides of Sherlock’s unshaved cheeks, then concentrating on the parted lips that were swollen and shiny with their combined saliva. He kissed him and Sherlock hissed, opening his mouth wider.

“Mmmm.”

“So gorgeous and all mine.”

“Yours!!!”

“Fuck, it’s getting closer baby boy.”

“Mm, hmm, me too, yes, right there, faster Jawn, please…. Ohhhhh!”

“You’re cumming, oh fuck so tight!”

John scrunched his eyes shut as he felt the elastic channel around him cave in completely. His orgasm triggered, he managed to open his eyes just long enough to watch Sherlock as he came. Pupils almost entirely dilated, mouth open, veins in his neck throbbing and hips shaking and moving in tandem with John’s speedier thrusts, Sherlock was quite the sight as he climaxed. He came so profusely the seed dripped down the sides and he still kept depositing some more.

John gave in and came, finally surrendering to the pleasures and needs that he had kept at bay, but only just. Letting the levee break was such a good experience, he felt almost overwhelmed and satiated to the brim, every part of his body disintegrating against the brute force of his orgasm and then piecing back together again. The shattering climax made him scream out Sherlock’s name and chant ‘Oh I love you, I love you so much’ several times and each time Sherlock responded with the same sincere words ‘I love you too, more than words can express’.

Sherlock was crying tears of joy but also trembling with fear. He was worried about what might happen when Jim got to know he was about to make a few changes in their ‘arrangement’.

But of this, John had no clue. _I won’t tell him. Not because I wish to hide anything but because this isn’t his battle to fight. I started this and I will finish it, with every damage coming my way and not his. I’ll speak to Jim and finish this once and for all._ Sherlock mewled softly as John finally softened and slipped out of him but continued to lie on top of him, moaning softly, his legs still spasming a bit from the remnants of his release a while ago. Sherlock’s own legs dropped back on the mattress but he kept both his arms tightly wound around John. He was scared that if he let go of his man this reality would vanish, as would his John, and he would be back in some deep and dark hole somewhere, languishing in regret.

He sniffled and wiped his nose awkwardly with the back of his hand. Instantly John raised his head from Sherlock’s neck and looked through slumberous eyes. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”

“No, not at all. It was great. Perhaps the best we had so far.”

“It just keeps getting better every day with you so tomorrow it might be even better than this!”

“Yeah, you are so right.”

“Happy birthday Sherl.”

“Thank you and thank you for all of this Jawn. I have a gift for you too. Got it last week but couldn’t think of the right opportunity to give it to you. I’ll give it tomorrow morning, first thing. Don’t wanna leave the bed or you right now.”

“Who’s letting you go?” Jawn yawned, eyelids growing heavier as he somehow managed to tumble down on the mattress next to his lover, “Christ, I can barely stay awake. It was such a huge one, I’m literally unable to keep my eyes open.”

“Sleep then,” Sherlock said curling into his John, “I got you.”

Silence descended for the next few minutes but just as Sherlock thought John had drifted off, the older man sleepily murmured, “Oh, about the gifts, choice of food etc, Jim helped me with those. He said you two had become close buddies during the walking tour of the house.”


	13. A mixed bag of feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey there baby boy!”
> 
> Sherlock blushed, “Mary!”
> 
> “Oops, sorry, I overheard. It was cute though.”

A week passed and Sherlock felt as if he was going nowhere. Not for lack of effort from his side though because he had tried his best to contact Jim and failed. The man’s cell phone was off and there were no responses to emails either. Not willing to give up, Sherlock had even taken a day off from the estate, telling John he needed to visit his ‘aunt’ and gone to the flat where Jim lived. It was locked and since it was his own flat, there was no landlord or lady to check with.

A neighbor he managed to catch hold of told him, a fact he was quite surprised to hear, that for the past month and half Jim had hardly visited. Once when they had met Jim had told him he was expecting a ‘windfall’ from one of his projects and might move to a better neighborhood.

Windfall indeed, it was all going to come out of John’s kitty and Sherlock was going to be branded as the robber. No fucking way, not in this life. Even if I lose some credibility with John I will still go ahead and tell him the truth about my relationship with Jim, Jim’s connect with Sebastian and also what he had been blackmailed into doing. He was quite sure John would forgive him because the latter was a man who always appreciated the truth and sincerity. But the correct moment to divulge the information hadn’t come yet. He wanted to speak to Jim first. Maybe, just maybe the man would understand and back off with the five hundred grand he had been given, plus the fifty grand earlier. That was big money too, especially since that sum was totally unearned.

For some reason John loved listening to his violin so he practiced every day, worked on the charities and accounts, managed some of John’s communications and kept reading and experimenting on the field of his own education and expertise. Not for a moment had he forgotten that he was a chemical engineer, with an aspiration to become a scientist. There was a long way to go and he wanted to succeed there, not just ride the gravy train of John’s vast and dazzling fortunes.

One day, as he was sitting in one of the biggest gazebos in the vast garden and practicing his violin, he saw Mary Morstan walk up to him with a huge smile on her face.

“Hey there baby boy!”

Sherlock blushed, “Mary!”

“Oops, sorry, I overheard. It was cute though.”

“Hmmm….”

“Wanted to thank you….”

“For…??”

She sat down next to him and touched the Stradivarius he had put down between them, lightly. “Can’t believe this costs in millions,” her voice reflected awe but also a dollop of delight, “You must be so careful with it all the time, worried that it might break and one masterpiece in this world would be lost, huh?”

“You bet,” Sherlock grinned, looking her in the eye, “You seem very happy Mary! I hope there is some good news you wanna share, along with whatever you are thanking me for!”

She reached out and took his hand in her grasp, giving it a brief and gentle squeeze. “I wanted to tell you this a long time ago, as soon as the second week of your stay here, but I thought it’s best if we hold it off for a while longer and wait and watch. I observed very closely as well as from a distance and noticed three major things. John was a happier person from the very first day, as if he had someone finally whom he could share his life, empty hours and unspoken secrets with. You seemed to settle in so easily, you just fitted in like a glove over the hand, as if tailor-made for it. Finally, John appears to have fallen in love, something he vowed he would never allow himself to ever go down that path….”

“Wait,” Sherlock said, cheeks rosy, “He said he’s in love with me?”

“Well, he doesn’t have to say it. I was briefly married to him once.”

“Yeah, I sort of guessed when he spoke about those days. It’s a miracle how you two remained friends despite everything.”

“I do have a boyfriend now, by the way. John always encouraged me to start a new life, find a man and have babies with him. I am extremely fond of children, you see! But I was worried about him being alone while he remained worried about me ruining my life. Hahaha, we were two buddies trying to look out for each other and ending up going around in circles. But now, I am relieved. He has you. Someone he deserves is finally with him, for the long haul.”

Sherlock was not only pleasantly surprised by the candid conversation but also very happy for her. She had always come across as a no-nonsense person, sensible and generous, the sort of woman who was a ‘what you see if what you get’ kind of soul. There was nothing corrupt or fake about her and he appreciated and respected that. Now that respect had increased tenfold.

“Mary, I am not sure if I deserve this praise or not,” he felt a strong urge to give her at least a tiny hint of what he was, “You see, I am from a fairly solvent and educated family. I had parents, an older brother. But I made a mistake, I fell for the wrong guy and got estranged from my family. This time, I don’t want any more mistakes and misunderstandings.”

“So take it slow,” she smiled, “Though I doubt John will be patient. He’s taking you to see Rosalie over the weekend, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“No doubt Rosalie will ask for a date, at least for the engagement. I suggest you keep at least six months between the engagement and the wedding. It’s very crucial to get to know each other properly. While money is something everyone works for, wants more of etc, having a boatload of money can be a big deterrent to happiness. There are complexities that you’d have to handle. I can help, once I am back.”

“Back?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes, “Back from where? Where are you going Mary?”

“Next week I will be going to Istanbul,” Mary said in an excited voice, her eyes shining with joy, “To be with my beau. He used to work in one of the companies where John was a primary investor. Then John set him up in his own business and he’s doing pretty well. He not only paid back the principle amount he took as loan from John but also a decent interest. Currently his assignment is in Istanbul, Turkey, and he wants me to join him there. Since it’s a second marriage for me as well as him, he had been married earlier and has two grown kids after all, we will do a quiet wedding and honeymoon in Greece. Yeah, that’s the plan. I will be back in about six to seven months.”

“Um…..”

“What happened?”

“…………..”

“Hey,” Mary affectionately took Sherlock’s face in her hands, “You seem very emotional. Listen, take each day at a time, one baby step at a time, keep an open mind and be your honest, true self. That’s all you need to do. Be yourself. John loves you for what you are, who you are! Don’t get stressed out. If push comes to shove, John is the sort of large-hearted person who will even help you reconcile with your family.”

“What if I let him down?” Sherlock sighed tremulously, “What if I wake up one morning and everything is just gone. Like a dream that was too good to come true.”

“I know about that, right? I have been there. We made a mistake and it took us several years to correct it. But eventually things get sorted out. If you have done the right thing, some power above will help you get to your destination. If your car breaks down, a trucker will give you a ride. If your boat develops a leak, someone will pass by on a raft and take you on. Just be there for him and I promise you, he’ll be there for you too.”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Good luck Sherlock. I always knew you two would go well together. Sort of like Yin to Yang and also like milk and sugar. Different, yet similar, just enough differences to be interesting but enough commonalities to be the best of soulmates.”

***

“You look awesome,” John said as he took a good look at the nervous Sherlock, “A suit looks good on you. The casual ones as well as the tux. I saw you in a suit when we had that evening out in town and now here, today, to meet my nana…. I have never seen a man look better in a subtle shade of dusty pink combined with cream and black.”

Sherlock swallowed audibly, “Are you just flattering me, trying to make me feel good or do you really mean this…. I mean, are you sure I shouldn’t wear a tie and all that?” He touched his long neck and gave John a quizzical stare.

John looked rather handsome too. Suave and sexy in the combination of his fawn and dark brown suit with a cravat around his neck, he appeared like the typical genteel young man with refined manners and a solid education in a blue-chip school. Yet he didn’t appear pretentious, nor did it seem he was trying too hard like Sherlock was. He was a natural. With his dirty blond hairs, caramel brown eyes and that easy, sunny smile, he could easily fit into the guy next door category too, his confidence and poise making him appear taller, broader, almost like a stalwart. Sherlock felt lucky one moment and petrified the next. What if things didn’t go well? What if the Dame disapproved of him?

“You know I wouldn’t flatter, lie or fake it. I’d rather help you look the way she prefers… or is used to. But you look really gorgeous! Effortlessly gorgeous! I can already hear her telling me ‘You got real lucky son, careful, don’t lose this one’. She might be old but she’s quite stable, she has her wits around her even today. When you meet her, I swear you’ll think for a moment that she’s fifty, not ninety one.”

Sherlock felt a bit better at those words. He was so unused to being scrutinized, even more unused to wearing a suit, that too in the morning and for lunch. While the estate was huge and they had to walk almost five hundred meters just to get to the old lady’s wing, it was after all the same house. Donning such formal and expensive attire, using product in his hair, Sherlock felt a bit too dolled up.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Hand in hand they walked to the wing where one of the retainers greeted them and led them to the formal dining room. “The lady doesn’t get a chance to entertain anyone, not for formal dinners anymore,” said the retainer, “She is overjoyed to have you over for lunch.”

“Me and my partner,” John said with a broad grin.

“Hello John!”

Lady Elizabeth Smallwood appeared, elegantly dressed and armed with a smile. “And this must be Sherlock!” She seemed impressed, “Now that’s a very handsome young man! So tall! John you have to start putting some extra padding in your shoes from now on, huh?”

John growled with mock rage, “Says the one who still has to look ‘up’ to me?”

As the two of them chatted and wisecracked one another, all in good humor, Sherlock saw a different side of John. It was a side he really liked and realized John was at his happiest right now, with Sherlock beside him and his granny waiting to have lunch with him! There was a child alive in the man of thirty-four, one that was playful and innocent and indulgent, loved to banter and tease, let his guard down for a change. At once he knew how important it was for John to be in this setting, surrounded by love, by peace and stability in relationships, something that could heal him from his past wounds. He hoped he never shattered that world with any of his inadvertent moves. _I have to talk to Jim….._

“Sherl? Hey!”

“Huh? Oh, yes Jawn?”

“Come on, nana is waiting.”

Sherlock saw the old woman sitting on a wheelchair, height-adjustable, at the head of the long shiny table laid out immaculately with fine china, silver and gold tipped cutlery and condiment jars. Bowls and platters of crystal and silver were laid out and the formal dining room, which was big enough to accommodate a gathering of at least twenty, was fragrant with the aroma of chicken, spices, herbs. Wine and cocktails accompanied the meal and a variety of cheeses and the best of ham were laid out for the two of them.

“Well, hello,” Dame Rosalie called out to Sherlock once John had greeted and kissed her. “Come here! As you can see, I am not too fond of walking about these days.”

Sherlock quickly stepped forth and knelt before her chair. She put a hand on his head briefly and then gave her grandson an approving nod. “He is a good egg. I bet the entire family is educated and cultured and he must be the younger sibling. Oh and the mother is pretty.”

“H-How would you know that Dame….”

  
“Oh cut out the ‘titular’ addresses and salutations. They just create a wall between people. You can call me Rose or… nah call me gran. Many people do. Only John and Sebastian call me nana.”

Even though the very mention of Sebastian’s name had made his spin freeze, Sherlock found the good-natured and dignified lady far too engrossing and likeable to think about that lemon headed jackass. “I think ‘gran’ is a very good idea. Call me Sherlock please, or maybe Will?”

They sat down for dinner and Sherlock soon realized that the so-called Matriarch of the house was not some scary monster in law but a genuinely nice and kind person. She had an acerbic angle to her personality but that was just her style. She called a spade a spade. But deep down she was neither harmful nor petty. Very soon he felt at ease and began to open up.

“I have enrolled into a new course, two years plus a year of assisted on-the-job assignment,” John declared proudly, “Your grandson will soon become a surgeon.”

She seemed very pleased to hear that. “Finally Jack,” she lapsed into her nickname for him, one of the man she had, “You are doing the right thing. I always maintained that healthcare professionals are the true angels of society just as soldiers are the true sentries and sentinels who stand guard so we can sleep in peace. Now I am truly proud, one grand-nephew who was in the army and served well, my own grandson about to renew his medical oath and become a surgeon…. Eliza, did you hear that? Our Jack is going to pick up a scalpel after all.” She became a bit breathless but the smile on her face never faltered.

“Johnny,” Elizabeth offered glowing praise, “That is excellent news. You can now directly oversee the work done at the hospitals and hospices we fund and the medical charities we support. Excellent decision.”

“He will also feel better about himself,” Rosalie added, “He was always brilliant in that field, he wanted to be a doctor from the age of three. Remember?”

“Oh please nana, no embarrassing childhood stories please,” John immediately intervened, then he took Sherlock’s hand and said, “By the way, meet the man responsible for this sudden change in me and who actually pulled my ears a bit. He is the one, the trigger and catalyst.”

“You pulled his ears?” Rosalie grinned, “That means you did my job.”

Elizabeth also praised him. “Very well done Sherlock. In a short time you seem to have cast a very positive influence on our boy. Well, you made a man out of him. I can see the change already. He stands taller, smiles brighter and for the first time in years seems to be enjoying life and all that it offers. Keep going, you two should hold on to each other and never let go!”

Sherlock squirmed with embarrassment, not sure he deserved such praise or such broad hints of a sustained and established relationship with so wealthy and influential a man. But John stumped him even further with his next statement. “That’s why I thought this is a good time for you to meet him. Like you once said, ‘If you like them, put a ring on them’.”

“Is that true?!?” Rosalie was stunned, but in a good way.

“Yes.”

“You have proposed?”

“I intend to, very soon!!”

***

John and Sherlock ate well while Rosalie only had the soup and slops she was allowed. Once lunch was over, she made an unusual request to Sherlock. She asked him to push her around in her private garden, on the wheelchair, while they talked. John didn’t accompany them as Elizabeth and her personal physician spent time with him, the lady explaining some of the legal papers which John had to sign as the Dame’s nominee and heir, and the physician giving him an update on his grandmother’s health. For half an hour, Sherlock was alone with John’s nana.

“I do walk, you know,” she said, “Just hold my hand a bit and help me sit on that bench. I want to take off my shoes and feel the grass beneath my feet. It’s been half a year.”

“Sure thing gran,” Sherlock did exactly as he was asked to and found she was truly stronger than he thought. Without too much of a wobble she crossed the distance between the path and the bench, walking barefoot on the grass with a blissful expression on her face. He helped her sit down and took a seat beside her. “I hear woodpeckers, thrushes, canaries,” she murmured, “This garden is a zen garden Sherlock. I designed it myself, some thirty years ago. Once I am gone, promise me you will maintain it exactly like this.”

“Gran, please, let’s not talk about this.”

“When you are in your nineties my dear, you realize you’re living beyond what’s due to you, like ‘borrowed time’. That’s a harsh statement but true. Your peers, friends, almost everyone you grew up and grew old with have gone. Sometimes it’s not nice to be the one left behind!”

“Your enemies must have gone too.”

“Yeah, truly.”

“Then we should celebrate. You survived and outlived the miserable bastards and bitches?”

She laughed, “You’re exactly like me. Cheeky, ebullient, putting a humorous twist to things.”

“Am I?” Sherlock giggled. He liked her. Her presence itself was rather inspiring for him.

“Humor can make things easier on you dear. Things won’t go your way often. Life will pull you down and offer your disappointments and disillusionment. But, one must never take life seriously. Unfortunately neither John’s mum nor John followed this philosophy. Let me tell you a story my boy. If you’re planning to marry John and he’s so happy with you, then it’s best that you know a bit more about our family.”


	14. Devil reappears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim shows Sherlock a mirror of his naive past

“My husband was a very pious, devout and straight man,” Rosalie reminisced, “He would think fifteen times before taking any step that even remotely felt wrong or unkind. With his level of fair-play and correctness, which sometimes even I struggled to understand, he expected the same kind of qualities in others. But our sons turned out to be different, as was my brother in law Henry.”

Sherlock listened quietly. Aside from being polite, attentive and nodding to show he was listening, he didn’t want to interrupt or ask anything yet. But he was very eager to know. Time and again John had hinted at some family issues, mishaps, baggage he carried. Maybe today he would get some answers from this matriarch.

“My brother in law was the man I was courted by and I mistakenly thought maybe he loved me and was going to marry me,” Rosalie murmured, her breathing problems making it difficult to talk constantly or louder, “I am not going to hide something from you, especially at this age and this stage of my life. I was pregnant when he abandoned me, resuming his playboy ways. It’s his brother who married me and adopted the baby as his own. No one got a whiff of it. My elder son turned out to be just like his father and John’s dad, who was my husband’s son, also became something very similar. The first one was worse, he shirked responsibilities and became violent if opposed. He was only forty-five when he was killed in a pub brawl in another part of the world.”

  
“That’s ghastly.”

“It was. But it wasn’t unexpected. But sometimes some tragedies fix things for the rest of us. His younger brother saw this and became a changed person. Unfortunately he couldn’t save his wife who was so shattered by his infidelities and neglect that she took her own life.”

“John’s mum?”

“Yes.”

They sat quietly for some time, hearing the various birds and bees in the garden and the quiet flow of a stream nearby. Sherlock could sense the reasons behind John’s natural trust issues and inability to have healthy relationships.

“John and his father got estranged after that,” she continued, in a sadder tone this time, “John’s elder sister Harriet supported her father. Eventually, as it turned out, she revealed after my son had gone that he wasn’t even her father. John’s mum had a brief reconnect with one of her earlier admirers and got pregnant. That man still remains faceless and unknown. I accepted Harriet as my own family but John was not so kind. He felt there was too much adultery, treachery and deceit in this family and after a big blow up, Harriet left and never came back.”

“Awful,” Sherlock sighed, “I can imagine somewhat…. When families break up, when on child walks out. I can feel how my parents felt when I…..”

“Take my word for it kiddo,” she put her leathery, thin hand over his knee, “Reconcile with them. Not all families are great and some are outright toxic but at least you should give it your best shot to make things alright. If it still doesn’t work, walk out but with your head held high.”

_Not like a thief in the night, which is what I did. How can I tell her I have no face to go back? How can I tell her I stole from them and that too for someone who dumped me eventually! Because I am sure as hell that Jimmy is fucking that Sebastian, who also ironically happens to be John’s cousin._ Sherlock rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and hung his head, trying not to show the despondency he felt. But those wise and experienced eyes, even with their fading eyesight, managed to notice the look on his face. “John is a simple man at heart Sherlock,” she continued, “He loves gestures, he loves loyalty, he wants someone he can trust with both his eyes closed. Sadly, it’s easy to get handsome, rich, famous, powerful and successful people these days, but not good souls.”

“It’s not an ideal world,” the young man whispered.

“Yes. But one can have an ideal world in this big, bad world. John and you can make that happen. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you today. I never thought my grandson would find someone so pretty and yet so wise and mature. You have really been a good influence on him and I hope that’s the way it always remains. In return, trust me on this, he will prove to be the most loving partner. Just like his mum tried to be.”

“And it didn’t work with her husband.”

“Yeah, but she could have forgiven him.”

“You think?”

“Yeah and not only because he’s my son. Because sometimes people deserve forgiveness. Because no one is beneath forgiveness. Because happiness won’t land on our laps, we must grab it. We need to create our own happy world amidst all the chaos, anarchy and deceptions around us. She waited for things to become right and when they did, she found a reason to reject them.”

“Gran,” Sherlock gave her a pleading look, “Is it okay to admit to a mistake and ask for forgiveness or is it a better idea to hide it all and pretend all is well?”

“Depends,” she said, not questioning the question but answering it with disarming honesty, “The first one will give you something long term and more permanent. The second one will give you a make-believe world that can crumble any moment. However, there are risks.”

“Uhh-hnnn?”

“In the first case you may lose the person after the confession. But if they do forgive you, then happiness is guaranteed and rarely ever fades with time. It’s a gamble son, like most things in life. Why? Do you have something else to talk to me about?”

***

Sherlock had always had a compulsive attraction towards John, in both a spiritual and carnal way but that day, for some odd reason, he felt his senses were going on overdrive. Once they had come back to their wing, John decided to take a bath and when Sherlock saw him reclining in the huge bathtub, naked and magnificent, he felt his raging hormones hit straight at his groin. He was so horny he had to take deep breaths to calm himself down and coordinate his limbs enough to strip naked and join his man in the tub.

“Oh what took you so long….. oooh, what’s got into you….. fuck, Sherl….. Ohhh so good….” The older man’s words were cut off by a monstrous moan.

John went from normal affection to casual curiosity and finally full-fledged desire as Sherlock stepped into the tub and knelt between his open legs. But instead of settling between them like he usually did, his back to John’s front, he bent down and took the older man into his mouth. The soft and floppy dick stiffened on his tongue in a record time of five seconds and Sherlock felt John’s steady pulse throb at his dick, leaping up and growing hard as a rod as a burst of musky, virile scent leapt to his nostrils. John thrust up, unable to keep his hips still as Sherlock began to suck on him.

“Ohhh Godddd,” he went after just two minutes had passed, squirming and grunting, “You’re going to make me cum.”

Sherlock hummed around the throbbing dick in his mouth and smiled. Yes, this was what he wanted. He wanted to leave John breathless with desire and later, upon completion, just as exhausted in a pleasant way as he had always been after sex with his man. “Sher-Sherlock….. If you want me inside you better stop now,” John warned, trying to push Sherlock off his lap.

“Nnng-Nnng-Nnng,” Sherlock went, making nasal sounds of ‘objections’ as he cupped and fondled John’s sizeable balls, sucking even harder. He loved how well hung his man was and he felt his luck go on an overload mode whenever John responded to him so lovingly, with so much passion and eagerness.

“Oh fuck, yes, yes it’s….. I’m gonna cum,” John threw his head back and moved his hips back and forth, fucking Sherlock’s mouth with quick thrusts. As the head of his cock hit the back of Sherlock’s throat, the latter having relaxed his throat to soothe his gag reflex, John screamed out his climax and came.

For the longest moment John continued to pant and whine softly, eyes opening and closing as he tried to relish as well as get over the ecstasy that he had just experienced. When he finally emerged from that haze and looked down his body, he saw Sherlock staring up at him through blazing eyes, a hint of a smile at the corner of his luscious lips.

“That. Was. Incredible.”

Sherlock giggled, licked his lips seductively and wiped his damp mouth and chin with the back of his hand. He turned around and sat the way he normally did, settling cozily between a still breathless John’s open legs, his back plastered against the still-heaving chest of his older lover. John frowned at that and craned his neck to one side to check out his face, surprised to note that Sherlock didn’t make any attempt to continue their conjugal acts. In fact he looked strangely and totally serene and relaxed. However, his body betrayed him somewhat. The erection he had developed while blowing John bobbed out of the surface of the soapy water and John immediately reached down and tried to grip it.

To his somewhat surprise, Sherlock batted his hand away. “What,” the confused man asked, “You don’t want me to do this to you. I mean, I could fuck you, blow you or rim you while I jerk you off, the opportunities are endless.”

Sherlock made a soft, sated sound and whispered, “No Jawn, you don’t really have to do that. Sometimes we don’t need to reciprocate. Today you really don’t need to. I just wanted to pleasure you, please you, that’s all. I want to sit here like this for a while, with you holding me.”

“But I want to.”

“Hmmm?”

“Yes. Let me at least jerk you off.”

“Not now. I am…..”

“Not in the mood, is it? Do you want me to be in the tub? I could let you sit here alone, if you so wish baby.”

Again that slightly insecure voice. Sherlock knew whatever Dame Rosalie had said was 100% correct. She indeed knew her grandson all too well. Despite his wealth and his status as an eligible bachelor, John was hardly the confident type. He needed assurance, if not constantly then at least once in a while. “Of course I want you here, I said I want to be in your arms. I just want to wait a while and then have sex.”

“Oh…. Thank God. I thought maybe….” John said, embarrassed, “You were brilliant today by the way. She was very pleased and everyone else, including Lady Elizabeth, were similarly appreciative of my choice. Frankly speaking, I hadn’t expected anything different because I had chosen you with a lot of care and thought. Just the sort of man she would have expected me to bring home someday. Well, I am glad that someday was today and everything happened so smoothly and peacefully.”

“She didn’t press for an early engagement though,” Sherlock said cautiously, “Otherwise you would have had to make up some excuse.”

He had said this with genuine sincerity and he meant every word he had said. As a hired bridegroom his purpose was to put up an act, not expect that act to become a part of reality. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t have at least a faint ray of hope that maybe sometime in the future this would become the truth. John would indeed propose to him. “Why would I make up an excuse babykins,” John nuzzled the side of his face and washed his back and shoulders with a soft and wet washcloth, “I am sorry, maybe I wasn’t clear enough. But you must understand Sherlock that whatever I said to her and Eliza this afternoon was the absolute truth. There was no fabrication in it.”

Sherlock turned in his arms, “You-You mean…..?”

“I really want to marry you. I don’t want this to end Sherlock, not in six months nor in sixty. I want us to be together, grow old together, share his life, this home, this wealth, everything.”

“Jawn!!!”

“I am going to pick a ring. It’s going to be almost two months since you came here and while everything else in my life remains the same, my entire outlook, perspective, mood, spirit, situation seems to have changed…. For the better of course. Sometimes when I wake up next to you I think ‘I don’t know what’s really changed but I don’t want to know, I am just very happy’. I really didn’t think someone could make such a difference to my life, that too in such a short time…..”

“I need to tell you something….”

“Not tonight baby,” John stopped him, much to his dismay, “I just want to enjoy the moments, pretty much like you.”

“But the water is getting cold,” Sherlock made another attempt, “How about we get back into the room….”

“Get back in bed so I can have some ice cream off you???”

Despite his best efforts Sherlock couldn’t control the moan that came out of him and when John’s warm and firm fingers closed around his raging erection, he fell back in the man’s arms with a soft mewl and surrendered to his desire.

In less than an hour John had Sherlock shrieking out his third orgasm before he finally allowed himself to cum once more. He emptied his balls inside Sherlock who was streaked with residual ice cream, cum and lube, shuddering and groaning in afterglow. He tried to stay awake and share some pillow talk but the long bath and three releases proved to be too much and the younger man was asleep before he knew it.

As a sated, sticky and sweaty Sherlock passed out on the bed, the older man cleaned him up and tucked him in and watched him sleep for a full hour. “I am just very, very happy,” he murmured and lay down afterwards, pulling a snoring Sherlock lovingly into his arms.

***

Sherlock dialed the familiar number and just as the phone began to ring, he disconnected it and put the receiver down. It was one of the many home phones in the Watson household and usually one of the retainers or Eckhart the butler received those calls, so he pulled the wire out from the instrument to temporarily disconnect it. He didn’t want the other side to call back on this number. _Why the fuck did I dial the cell number? Oh I forgot, not every house as a home phone anymore. Mine doesn’t. Shit, what was I thinking when I did this? What was I supposed to tell them really?_

But he knew he needed to talk to someone, so he dialed the only other option. His former landlady Mrs. Martha Louise Hudson.

She didn’t answer. Thinking she could be in the bathroom or maybe in some noisy place, he called again after five minutes but once more he was disappointed. No response from her. With a super-frustrated exhale he gave up, climbing the stairs with slow, sluggish steps and reaching the terrace on the first floor. He went out and sat there, his mood as gloomy as the rainclouds gathering in the increasingly darkening skies above. Monsoon seemed to have arrived a bit earlier than usual that year.

Not my day, he thought as the gentle breeze changed it pace and intensity according to the changing weather. Very soon a real gale began to blow and the green eyed beauty shielded his face with his arms, trying to get indoors.

That was when his phone rang.

“Mrs. Hudson?”

“No, it’s me.”

“Jim???”

“Yes, the one and only. I am in the house. Come downstairs and meet me. Actually meet me in the pool house. I am there.”

“But why there…. the pool house…..” Sherlock tried to ask, confused by Jim’s sudden arrival after two weeks of being incommunicado. But Jim had disconnected in his usual rude manner.

Despite his misgivings he couldn’t say no to the man so he quickly got out of the house through a side door, walked past the courtyard, down the steps to the sunken area where they had a rose garden and a picturesque swimming pond. More steps, upwards this time, before he crossed a bridge and there was the Olympic sized pool shimmering in it’s full azure glory.

The beautiful pool house stood at the edge of the water body, a magnificent structure with three sides made of glass and the roof partially made of glass too. There was a covered patio area which served as a lounge area with a wet bar on one side. Standing behind that bar and making himself a drink, acting as if he owned the place, was a very pretty but smug looking Jim. Usually whenever he saw Jim like that, dark hairs slicked back, eyes glittering like a predator, his skin shining with vitality and his tight-as-a-whip body encased in form fitted clothes, Sherlock always lost his composure and his heart. After that Jim had an easy way ahead, he would demand and Sherlock would give in.

_But not today_ , Sherlock thought as he confidently strode to the pool house. _Today he will listen to me, not the other way around._

“Drink?” Jim handed him a glass, smirking at his attire, his new haircut and the general look of wellbeing and bliss on his face, “I made some Pina Colada.” He stepped back and surveyed Sherlock’s overall appearance again, “Wow! Someone seems to be glowing with joy!!!”

“Where were you? Why weren’t you picking up my calls?” Sherlock demanded, putting the cocktail glass back on the counter without sipping it.

Jim hopped up on a bar stool, “I had some work. I don’t need to explain things to you nor do you have to keep a track of my whereabouts. If you leave a message, I will respond to you or come and see you when I can. But that can’t always be instantly.”

“Do you realize Jim that you are the one who always makes the rules in our relationship?”

Jim began to laugh. An offended Sherlock snarled, “What’s so funny? My accusation that you are a dominating alpha? Well, that you are….”

“No, no, no,” Jim held his sides and laughed on while Sherlock waited impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor, “Ooooh, the delusions of grandeur you have Sherlock! I was laughing at the fact that you think we are in a relationship!!!”

Whatever remaining feelings and emotions Sherlock had, ones which were holding him back from slamming Jim for his selfishness and conniving acts, evaporated in the scorching heat of his harsh words. “Very well,” said the taller man, “In that case you’re here to beg, as usual.”


	15. Making up his mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you want me to speak to the security guards and keep him off our premises?"
> 
> “Nope. I think we have seen the last of him. After this we will take a restraining order but that will be for him as well as his handler, sorry, his boyfriend Sebastian."

Jim looked so taken aback and speechless, for a change, that Sherlock grinned with satisfaction. It felt so good to give it back to the man, finally. But he had no idea he was unleashing a brute, someone who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. “I see that fucking the reclusive bore who lives in this mansion, the one with more money than sense, has given the little boy a sense of entitlement and bravado, huh?”

His evil voice made Sherlock briefly consider an apology but he had truly transformed in the past two months and become far more confident and vocal. More than that, he was able to hold his own against the bully of a boyfriend he had. “Don’t dare talk about him that way.”

“Oh my, my, what loyalty and feelings…… but wait a moment, why shouldn’t I?” Jim said as he downed his drink in one major gulp and reached for the glass which Sherlock had abandoned. He sniffed at it and added some mint leaves from a jar, before adding in a very crude manner, “I am not indebted to him for putting his dick into me and finally popping my cherry…. Isn’t it?” He planned to add more sarcasm to his speech but Sherlock cut him off there and shot back, deciding to give Jim a taste of his own medicine. “Well, since you are getting your goodies from the poor cousin of his, that blond bimbo who has literally got you strapped to his back like a backpack, I should assume it’s enough for the likes of you.”

For a few moments Sherlock had the quiet satisfaction of watching Jim’s face pale and his eyes widen. But at the same time his own heart gave away a little and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. It was very clear Jim had feelings for Sebastian, feeling which were genuine and which he never harbored for Sherlock. Even though he knew Jim and he were over or maybe they were never really together, it still rankled.

The next moment he was on his back on a cane lounge chair with Jim straddling him, his hands lodged around Sherlock’s throat. “Don’t you fucking talk to me like that ever again,” he warned.

“Jim, let go, you are hurting me,” Sherlock said with solemn composure.

It was perhaps that restrained reaction and quiet confidence which Sherlock displayed which made Jim’s grip loosen. But he didn’t move away. Bringing his face closer to Sherlock’s, he hissed, “I believe you met the old buzzard. Quickly get engaged and get John to transfer at least two properties to your name. One of them should be in a prime location in the city, not some countryside Hicksville. I need a place to live in, of my own.”

“Let go and we can talk like civilized people. I said, let go.”

Jim withdrew and Sherlock coughed and sat up straighter. “Go on, tell me which of the properties you can get hold of. He had about seventeen of them in this country and around eighteen of them around the world. Let’s begin with the ones in and around the city.”

“Not happening.”

“What? What did you say?”

“I said I am not going to do whatever you say, not anymore,” Sherlock stood toe to toe with Jim and stared right into his eyes. Inside he was trembling, he was so used to being dominated by the other man that even a mere look into those deep, obsidian eyes gave him the jitters. It was like staring at volcanic glass, as if they could explode any moment and the volcano would come alive, erupt and destroy everything in its wake. But that day, perhaps because of the newfound love and respect from John, he felt stronger, fearless even. He didn’t balk even when Jim slapped him across the face.

“You will do EXACTLY as I say,” Jim threatened.

“Or else what?”

“You son of a bitch. You had promised.”

“I had never promised to harm anyone. I have already betrayed him enough but not anymore. Not one more time. Enough.” 

“Oh my holier-than-thou arsehole. Or maybe you are not such an innocent little lamb after all. Oh yes, I get that. You are hiding one crucial fact behind a fiction. All this nonsense about being honest and righteous, of not hurting that poor rich boy, that’s all utter and abject nonsense. You have found a way to get into his bed, now you want to get into his life don’t you? That way you can have it all. That’s the plan, isn’t it you lying, scheming bitch???”

Sherlock’s mouth twisted in a manner that showed his concealed disgust for Jim’s behavior, “Why do you think everyone is a mirror reflection of you? Some of us are not greedy lying cheats. Some of us happen to be honorable, till the end.”

Jim was aghast and looked so taken aback that for the next half a minute he couldn’t react. He simply gaped at the man he had dominated and controlled for two years; someone who had never objected, never seen through his schemes and plans had suddenly transformed into a rebel. The same man was throwing it all back at him, denying him, talking back to him. “Honorable indeed,” he scoffed, “The same one who stole from his own house.”

“For you,” Sherlock would have preferred that no one ever brought that up, least of all Jim who was as much a party to that misdeed as he was, “It was to build our own future. Or have you forgotten that that theft was entirely planned by you?”

“Yeah, but who did it?”

“Jim, I swear I am….”

“Don’t snap at me you pasty skinned scrawny bastard, I am warning ya,” Jim yelled and raised his arm to punch him but this time Sherlock was prepared and quickly grabbed his arm, pushing him back slightly and putting some distance between them. Jim gasped, looking at Sherlock and then around them, as if he couldn’t believe this was really happening and not some ghastly, frightening nightmare.

“Nah,” Sherlock stood boldly before Jim, “It’s me who’s giving you the warning this time. Mess with me and you will have nothing left to be happy about.”

Again Jim was startled and stunned into silence for a few moments. But Sherlock learned a hard lesson that day. He realized right after this that men like Jim were truly dangerous and they never gave up easily. For every failed plan A, they had a plan B and sometimes right up to a Plan G to boot. Jim grinned at him mockingly and said, “If I am not getting anything then so aren’t you. Unless I have the Woodburn Street condo, a little luxury abode of only 3000 square feet space with two-car garage below, I am going to make life miserable for you. Eventually that misery will also reach John and the poor idiot is already mentally weak and fragile. He will simply keel over with grief or toss you out on your arse….. something I am sure you deserve.”

“Screw it,” Sherlock stood his ground, “But I’m not bending over at your will. That stops now.”

Jim seemed a bit lost at first but he recovered quickly enough to issue a dire warning again. “I am warning ya you prized idiot, if you listen to me we will both come out of this smiling. We will be smelling of roses too. If you don’t bother to heed my words or warnings, go ahead show your foolishness. Remember, I won’t come to any harm. But I sure can let Dr. John Watson know he’s misunderstood you totally.”

“Why will he believe you?”

“Oh he would, when his cousin joins in and convinces him too.”

“Get outta here Jim. I don’t need to listen to your rubbish.”

Jim’s eyes flashed fire and he breathed fire too as he spoke next. “Rubbish, is it?” His hands went to his hips and he suddenly seemed to have acquired some new confidence, “You will soon figure out what you’re getting into. Jim Moriarty isn’t accustomed to hearing threats nor refusals. Just you wait and watch. If I am not getting anything further from you, then I have no use for you……”

Despite falling for John, despite seeing Jim’s real face, Sherlock still felt his heart break at the heartless, statement. “Was that all I was to you?” He asked, dismay written plainly on his visage, “A tool or object you for you to use?!? _Did you ever love me?”_

“No,” Jim answered with a cheeky grin, _“It has always been Sebastian.”_

In spite of all the things that had gone wrong between them and the natural and gradual erosion of his feelings for Jim, plus the burgeoning affections between him and John, those words hit Sherlock harder than he had expected. He felt let down, betrayed and cheated upon. But what he felt most was self-pity. He had been fooled by someone just because he had fallen in love with the man. He felt ‘used’ and ‘duped’.

“Why me?” Sherlock asked in a tone filled with loathing, directed towards himself as well as Jim, “There are so many out there in the world.”

“You were one of my prospects my pretty Sherly,” Jim said with cool confidence and utter disdain, stalking around Sherlock and making clucking sounds at the back of his throat, “Look at yourself in the mirror! You’re the perfect bait! You are cute, good looking, educated, someone a rich dude would eventually fall for. There’s no dearth of foolish rich people and stupid poor people. All you need to do is ensure they meet! So that’s what Sebby and I did. We ensured you guys met and whatever else happened afterwards was pure and simply chemistry. Two sexually repressed and pleasure deprived men; put them on the same cozy bed and they would start monkey-humping sooner or later, yeah? Hahaha!!!”

“How cruel can you be?”

“Do you even know me?!?! Huh!!”

“So that’s why you were so eager for me to fuck him. All the while as I kept wondering why would you push your own guy into another’s arms….”

“Awww, innocence how I miss thee! You really thought I was in love with your Puritan arse and Mormon like lifestyle…. Oooh touch-me-not, oh no we can kiss but not tongue-kiss, date but not fuck, who the fuck agrees to such frigidity and suck-arse morals nowadays huh? A hot blooded Irishman like me, someone who can get anybody he wants, well, I was only using you. Yeah, you would have eventually been a good lay and I sincerely regret not having fucked you or get fucked by you…. But that’s fine. I have the biggest cock in town, Sebastian’s.”

“Shut the fuck up and GET OUT.”

  
“Ouch, don’t scream. I don’t risk discovery here, you do.”

Sherlock was energized and emboldened by anger and a chance to salvage whatever little self-respect he had left. In a stern but low voice he growled, “I said get the fuck out of my sight and NEVER dare to come on this property again. You have so far only seen my kind, loving, obedient side, haven’t ya? Well, you’d seriously regret seeing the other side. So James Moriarty, I refuse to give you any more money and if you try to meet me again, I don’t care about consequences. I shall go down if I have to but you won’t be spared either. You and your beau will go to jail.”

“Ohhhh, I tremble with fear,” Jim mimicked the voice of Scar the Lion from the Lion King movie and aside from the fact that he did have a very pretty (and deceptively innocent) face, he did look like that cunning character. Sherlock put some more distance between them and said through gritted teeth, “Out you go you conniving scum. If I get a chance someday, I’d bash your nose in. But unlike you, I am not a street urchin.”

“Ohhh,” Jim gyrated to some unheard music and made his way out of the pool-house lounge, “Don’t forget darling, my beau is his cousin. There is a family reputation involved. He wouldn’t want to see his old goose of a gran pained at this age. So, technically, you can’t do anything.”

Sherlock felt a jolt of realization at that. Yes, there was a chance that due to the filial connections Jim would get away with it. But no, it wasn’t about putting Jim on the spot, it was about protecting John. No way was Jim going to use him or deploy any other methods to hurt John, financially or otherwise. Not in his watch! “Don’t you dare try anything funny with John,” he warned the other man who was staring at him defiantly, “I am at that stage of my life where I am not bothered about what happens with me. When people give up being afraid, being embarrassed, that’s when they become really dangerous. They become desperate and that desperation can leave a trail of destruction in its wake. These are not empty threats, you hurt John and you will have to face me.”

“Then don’t force me to do something I don’t want to do,” Jim said darkly, “Give me the property I mentioned and I won’t bother you anymore.”

“I am giving you not even half a penny.”

“Oh is it….. then whatever happens hereafter is on your conscience.”

Jim walked out, whistling and a chip on his shoulder, not the least bit bothered by the altercation he had just had. He soon disappeared behind the landscaped hedges and stunted trees that were planted around the pool area but his dark presence lingered, especially in Sherlock’s mind. He collapsed on a chair, trembling, and wrapped his arms around himself. Jim was not the sort to issue empty threats. What was he planning? What was he trying to do?

“Sir…?”

“GRETEL?!”

Sherlock jumped up, eyes round, jaw slack. “I-I was… I was just talking to a friend.”

She gave a suspicious look in the direction Jim had just left from. “How is that even possible? How can someone like him be your friend? I know him, thanks to my daughter who knows him. He is a known conman and high-class pimp. But he has a talent for survival and has never been embroiled in any legal problems, has not a single case in his name and always exits the scene before the cops come in.”

“I…. um…. I was just….”

“Please Mr. Bouffler, if you are in trouble or he is bothering you then you have to tell me. Maybe I can help in some way. At least I can give you some background. Not just about this man but also about the other man, Colonel Moran, our employer’s cousin and family.”

Sherlock held his head in his hands and made a pained sound. His head was reeling and his palms sweaty, whirlwind of thoughts were swirling in his mind as he kept pondering about possibilities of John being swindled, John being hurt, John being compromised was not letting him settle down in a spot. He felt restless, angsty, antsy. “Listen to me Mister Bouffler,” Gretel whispered, “There is a reason why you notice a huge difference in fortunes between Mr. Watson’s family and Mr. Moran’s family. While Dame Rosalie is a sensible woman who married a sensible, enterprising gentleman, worked hard on her marriage and kept temptations at bay, her sister married someone who blew up all his family fortunes. Since then, Sebastian’s father’s generation onwards, this family has been pulling the other one like a horse pulls a cart. They live like kings without a penny in their treasury, all of it borrowed or donated.”

Sherlock’s eyes turned towards her, “Then why doesn’t John cut him off? It looked like they get along very well.”

“He respects the man as a soldier and when they were young they really did get along well. But Mr. Watson is aware that his cousin has changed quite a bit in his twenties and he was disappointed when he left the army. I think, once the Dame Rosalie is no more, he will show him the door. You can do charity but not cripple someone with it, let them fish for themselves if they are able to – this was what I once heard him telling Mr. Stamford.”

“Thanks,” Sherlock swallowed, “Makes sense now.”

“If you’re in trouble do let me know.”

“How can you help really? No, I don’t mean to offend you, but there’s really nothing….”

“I know what you mean sir. If I say something, it reflects more on you than anyone else.”

“Then don’t. Let’s not make it worse than what it already is.”

She nodded, “I didn’t mention this before because I wasn’t sure if it was my place to speak of this. But I really like the person Mr. Watson…. Oh sorry, now maybe we can address him as Dr. Watson again, I really adore and appreciate the person he is when he’s with you. You have breathed a new lease of life in him and also this house…. It seems more like a home now. Ms. Morstan was also able to embark on her new journey in life. Even I have good news, my daughter is getting married. I have taken a month off for that.”

“Congratulations,” Sherlock said, putting on a feeble smile and trying his best to be happy for her, “Please take this time off and enjoy, be with her, give her the grandest experience ever. I know for a fact now…. That a mother’s love is perhaps the purest there is. Some of us unfortunates didn’t realize that until it was too late.”

“Thanks sir,” she said, beaming with happiness, “Do remember sir, if I may suggest, that mothers also have an infinite capacity to forgive.”

Sherlock felt his heart clench as he remembered his family. Like all families there were issues, arguments and disagreements, there was sulking, sighing and glares. But at the end of the day they were a family and they genuinely loved and looked out for each other. He cursed himself for forgetting that and focusing only on Jim, the lovely and lissome James Moriarty who had blinded him with his aura charm. How foolish had he been, how selfish too! Could he ever go back to them and ask for forgiveness, like Gretel just mentioned, and set things right? Will it become better and they’d be reconciled again? Or would they tell me ‘I told you so’ and blame him for trusting a wicked manipulator and taking such a big step for Jim???

_He sighed. He was not sure he had the guts to face his parents again. Maybe his mummy he could reach out to. She was always the one who supported him. But then there was Mycroft, the big brother who was always strict, stern and authoritative. They always butted horns……_

“Whatever this is sir,” Gretel gently put her hand on his shoulder, “This too shall pass.”

Sherlock gave her a smile, “I hope so. It always does, but that doesn’t mean we don’t suffer while it’s happening to us.”

“True! Do you want me to speak to the security guards and keep him off our premises? I mean that gentleman who came to see you, Jimmy Moriarty.”

“Nope. I think we have seen the last of him. After this we will take a restraining order but that will be for him as well as his handler, sorry, his boyfriend Sebastian. Considering the fact that Colonel Sebastian Augustus Moran is John’s cousin and member of the extended family, I want to do this with dignity and civility. But I will cut them out of John’s life, if that’s the last thing I manage to do. This time I have made up my mind.”

“It’s about to rain,” she commented, “Let’s head indoors sir.”

“Good idea.”

Unfortunately the rain came down in buckets as they crossed the swimming pond area, in the sunken courtyard surrounded by the rose bushes. While skipping past the lotus leaves on the water, splattered by the falling raindrops, Sherlock thought for a moment he saw something.

A flash of blond mane at one of the windows upstairs. But it couldn't be John, the only blonde with free access to the rooms. Definitely not John, Sherlock realized, John wasn’t home. This was not a sandy blonde or a 'dirty blonde' either, like John was. A much brighter hue. A golden-sunflower blonde. He was not sure if it was a male or a female.

A stumble made him look down, curse and straighten himself again. This time when he looked up again, the window was empty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see who outwits whom


	16. Not for money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John proposes. Sherlock accepts but tries to steer clear of owning any of his fiance's assets.

“Hhhhnnnn!!!”

Sherlock sat up in a hurry and was almost immediately wrapped up in an embrace by John who turned on the bedside light hurriedly. “Easy, easy, it’s only me, I am back baby boy,” the older man said soothingly, “Sorry I got so late but my mentor, the world renowned surgeon Diana Mason Wright, she spent more time working on my file than I had expected. It’s 2 am, go back to sleep hon.”

“Jawn, Jawn, hold me, hold me please, please….” Sherlock was trembling, the notion that someone had sneaked into the room to murder John weighing heavily on his head and heart. Unfounded fears they might be, but he couldn’t stop them from happening. He wished it was only a nightmare or two that was bothering him but he knew it wasn’t. His nightmares started from the moment he woke up, knowing that the reality that stared him in the face was inescapable, and how wrong everything could turn out to be if he put one step wrong. He swallowed audibly and sagged heavily in his lover’s arms, clinging to him for dear life.

“Yes love?” John asked him patiently, waiting for him to open up, “What’s bothering you so terribly? I have been observing you, a week has passed and you seem to be very high-strung nowadays! I am not sure why and what stops you from sharing your anxieties with me, because I want to help you babe. You have made my life twenty times better than before, if possible I want to contribute positively to your life as well. Please, please give me a chance?!”

“Jawn, I have tried, I really tried but I don’t know how to bring up the context…..”

“What context?”

“It’s about….”

“Yee-ess???”

Once again Sherlock found himself tongue tied. He had tried this before, while dining in a gourmet restaurant with John or while swimming in the swimming-pond together, even while they lay in bed watching a movie, but none of those times he had been able to truly speak up.

What if he throws me out right away? What if I never get a chance to explain? What if he starts to hate me and never trusts me again? What if he doesn’t even believe me and think I am lying? I can’t even think about losing him, what if I really lose him…..What if, what if, what if…..!!!

“It’s nothing, just a bad moment…..it will pass.”

John shook his head with a knowing smile, “I may have known you only for three months Sherl, but trust me, I do understand you pretty well by now. I know when you’re telling me the truth and when you’re merely trying to conceal something…..”

“Conceal?” Sherlock felt butterflies in his stomach and wasps in his brain, “No no…..” he quickly tried to change the topic and divert John’s attention too. “Please,” he took John’s hand and led it down to the swell of his arse, “Please make me feel good about myself. I am just…. Lost.”

John didn’t need a second invitation. His expression changed from mild concern to full-blown lust in a matter of seconds. He lowered Sherlock on the mattress and caressed him with devotion, like he was worshipping the long limbs, the sculpted chest, the smooth skin and artistic hands and feet. When he reached the face and devoured those Cupid bow lips, Sherlock had almost forgotten his woes and was totally immersed in a world of pleasure and sensations. He clutched at John, unwilling to let go, wanton moans pouring out of his mouth as the muscular body, as naked as his own, pressed down and slid along him. There wasn’t even an inch of space between them, chest, abs, thighs, calves and even their faces perfectly aligned.

“Please,” Sherlock said, handing John the lube.

“Darling not like this,” John kissed his neck.

Sherlock gasped, “Ohhh…. No, I want to feel you inside…. Make me feel you for days. Jawn, please listen to me, just your cock…!!”

John licked a hot strip up Sherlock’s neck, across his jawline and then the shell of his ear. The younger man thrashed about, his wiry limbs jerking and shaking, a look of pure need on his beautiful and rose-flushed face. With his hairs all askew, his eyes darker with lust, his nude body all spread out like marmite on toast, he was the most amazing creature John had ever seen. He attacked the twin nubs on Sherlocks chest with his lips, teeth and tongue, making him keen beautifully.

“Now, please…”

  
“Shush, patience!”

“Stop or I will….”

“You will what?”

“Cum!”

Sherlock was jerking himself hard and when John pulled his fist back, he whined and almost snapped at his lover. John chuckled, the wanton desperation in his young lover boosting his ego, his testosterone levels rising and rising as he slathered his cock and Sherlock’s entrance with some slippery and warm lube. Sherlock keened again, finger nails digging into John’s side, leaving marks of crescent moon shape there. In places he split the skin, drawing faint traces of blood, but John felt no pain. Just more desire, more pleasure, more eagerness to continue this until they couldn’t go on anymore.

Kneeing Sherlock’s long legs apart, he pushed a pillow underneath his pert bottom and aligned his cock to the quivering opening. It shone with lube, the soft skin begging for a kiss. The older man contemplated that for a moment, but his inner voice strongly objected. _No John, later, he has no idea how close you are and you’ll embarrass yourself this way. He can do this with a simple look, sweep away all your self-controls and make you a slave to lust. If you continue the foreplay, you will explode before you even make it inside._

Promising to himself that he would felch the younger man later, John groaned with anticipated pleasure as he pushed himself in. As the head dipped inside, past the ring muscle, John realized why Sherlock wanted this rough lovemaking off and on. It felt different, more forceful, desperate, his caveman-mode on, something that actually made him act like an alpha animal on a rutting spree. Self-controls crumbled to dust, John buried himself completely with a few thrusts, heart and body warring in the process. “Oh… ohh…. Sorry, I am sorry,” he breathed out as he was sheathed completely in the velvety channel, “Did I hurt…. I didn’t mean to but…. I hope I didn’t hurt you baby!”

“You… you feel good inside me… I want this,” Sherlock moved his pelvis in a manner that made him fuck himself on the invading muscle, “Mooove!!!”

John began to move his hips back and forth and felt Sherlock’s teeth sink into his shoulder as he lay down completely over his spread eagled torso. Breathing in his scent and the combined whiff of their hormones and cologne, John kept thrusting at a steady pace, groaning deeply.

Sherlock lifted his legs higher in the air and that move made John slide in even deeper. The inner muscles tightened around his cock and he grunted loud, supporting himself on his strong arms and rising above Sherlock for a moment.

“Fuck, won’t last,” he growled, “What are you doing to me?”

  
“Huhnn?”

“Slow me down, somehow, anyhow.”

“How-How do I even….??”

“Fuck it’s cumming!”

Sherlock’s eyes widened, then scrunched shut as a sudden wave of pleasure slammed against him and he felt semen spurt out of his cock without warning. He had no idea he was so on the edge and somehow seeing John lose it had acted like a catalyst to his own bodily functions. He came and came helplessly, hips moving back and forth as he rode out the aftershocks. Before he could even recover, he felt the same pulsating and spurting inside him as John grew even harder and deposited a truckload of cum inside him. “Hung as a horse,” he whispered, smiling and sweaty, “That’s my man!”

“Beautiful as an angel, my savior, my love, that’s you,” John returned, nuzzling behind his ear, “Oh by the way, I think you have left some nice prominent marks on my neck. Remind me to wear appropriate clothing tomorrow to hide those.”

As they settled down to sleep, Sherlock suddenly got up and sprinted towards the bathroom. Though startled, John didn’t make too much of it and chuckled with a soft murmur, “When you gotta go I guess you really gotta go!” He lay on his back, arms under his head, staring fondly at the open door of the bathroom. He had expected to hear the faucet on and the water running or the sounds of the toilet flushing but none of that happened. Instead Sherlock came back shyly, holding a gift in his hands. “Why…. Sherl, I know this is a stupid question but what’s that? A gift for me?” He asked, remembering just how much he loved presents. But for years no one had ever got him any, save for his grandmother who always gave him something for his birthday, on Easter and of course Christmas.

“Yep,” Sherlock awkwardly handed it to him, “I wanted to give you something for a long time. But what do you give a man who has everything!”

“Everything money can buy,” John corrected him, then smiled sneakily, “You give me things that one can’t buy in a shop.” He suggestively patted Sherlock’s rear.

The roseate blush was back on the young face. “Ehm, yeah sure…. But there’s another option. I thought I’d make something for you. From scratch. That too will be unique, not something money can buy. So that’s it…. Open and see, I-I hope you like it.”

“Of course I would,” John said as he unwrapped the beautiful package. There was a lot of effort that had gone into this, he could see that plainly, and he knew he was lucky in a way he had never expected to be.

The package revealed a beautiful wooden box, handmade and polished, personalized with his name, inside it was a set of gardening tools and barbeque tools. “You like the outdoors, you like tending to herb plants and rose bushes in the garden and the greenhouse, plus the barbeque experience,” Sherlock explained, “I thought I’ll make this for you. Took me two months but it was worth all the effort. I also got you this….” And he handed John something heavy in a long wide box.

That revealed the latest home gym concept, The Mirror. An interactive tool with an interface that allowed one to workout anytime, without always resorting to gyms and personal trainers, stream videos form YouTube or specialized classes provided by fitness experts.

“You can connect via your Apple watch,” Sherlock murmured to kill the dead-air between them, now looking a bit insecure, “I saw how you sometimes hate to be in that huge gym but alone, when the timings of your trainer doesn’t suit you, so I got you this.”

John was looking steadily at both objects. He didn’t say a thing for almost a minute, which added to Sherlock’s anxieties. _Maybe he finds them too cheap, too common_. Sherlock cleared his throat and asked again, “Do you like them Jawn? If you don’t then I can always…..”

“No, no, no, please don’t get me wrong,” John grabbed Sherlock’s arm and made him sit down next to him on the bed, “Please, you have no idea how happy I am. I am just not able to express it properly.” He looked straight into Sherlock’s green eyes, so he could reveal his emotions straight from the heart. “It’s been a long self-imposed exile from the little joys of life. My mummy and my sister used to give me gifts all the time but after they left… one died and the other was gone, I never allowed myself such a luxury. Eventually, when dad died too, there was no one left to indulge me. For years I missed something like this, being gifted something rather than always have to buy stuff for myself.”

“Really? You… You like gifts?”

“Yes, who doesn’t? Nana does give me something or the other every year. But that doesn’t seem enough, I wish I had….. oh well, I am blabbering. Thanks for these. They are amazing. And so useful, well thought-out presents, things I just…. Love doing, things that I truly needed.”

A gorgeous smile spread over Sherlock’s face. _He felt accomplished. His Jawn liked the gifts._

“Now I have something for you baby boy,” John got up and walked to the closet, “Stay put there, don’t move.”

“Okay,” Sherlock shrugged, craning his neck to see what John was up to, a curious smile on his lips. He didn’t have to wait too long. Within a few seconds John rushed back to the bed, holding a beautiful little box made of crystal with an ivory base. Sherlock’s eyes grew big at the sight of that tiny but elegant case. These kinds of boxes usually held rings. Could it be that John was taking the step he’d so far been hinting at?

_Is John going to propose to me???_

“William Sherlock Scott Bouffler,” John went down on one knee, “Gosh, I am doing this naked but then we are both naked… how’s that for common ground huh? So, speaking about common, you are already something like a common law husband for me so why don’t we formalize our relationship and take it to the next level. I want to marry you and make you mine for an entire lifetime. Don’t care if I’m being greedy, I don’t wanna ever let go of you anymore.”

Sherlock balked. _How could he accept without telling John the truth?_ That would be deceit.

“C’mon babe,” John showed a pitiful face, “My knees, they’re hurting. Yes or no? Please let it be a yes. I know it could be more romantic but I am not a man of big gestures or fluffy ideas. I am just someone who loves you and wants to spend their life with you….” He held up the ring with a pleading look.

_I love him, I love him, I love him so much! I don’t have the heart to say no to him, I cannot. I just cannot do that when I really want this. To hell with everything else, I will find a way to talk to him. I will tell him the truth. Technically I haven’t really cheated, swindled or squealed on him or secrets he has shared with me. My conscience is clean. I deserve happiness too. This could make all the wrongs right._

With trembling and quivering lips, watery eyes and a slightly panicked expression on his face, Sherlock extended his left hand and thrust forth the long bony ring finger. John didn’t notice his demeanor or his hesitation, nor did he realize Sherlock was actually quite pale and preoccupied. He thought the shaking and trembling was because of nerves, of happiness, maybe excitement. He eagerly slipped on the platinum engagement band on Sherlock’s finger, studded with baguettes on one side and inscribed with the letters Sherlock & John on the other. A singular bespoke piece he had personally designed for his beloved. “There,” he kissed the ring and then the finger, “Now we can plan the wedding. Let’s set a date, say, in about three or three and half months from now!”

“So soon???”

“Why not?”

“Your gran said….”

“She is quite old. The sooner we do this, the greater chances we have of her attending it. I want her to live another ten years but facts are facts Sherl. She is ninety one, not seventy one. Sometimes when her health deteriorates it becomes touch and go.”

***

The next day John left for a business trip. It was to last three days and before leaving he told Sherlock very clearly that the moment he returned, he intended to meet Sherlock’s family as well as call his lawyer and organize a new will and some legal transfer papers to a few properties. Nothing Sherlock could say or plead made a difference to him. He was totally determined to do this.

“I am not marrying you for money,” Sherlock insisted, “There is no hurry.”

“There is no reason to go slow either baby boy,” John said as he was helped into his blazer by Sherlock, “As soon as I am back I am calling my lawyer and also Greg Lestrade. We will tear off that contract and release you from it. My husband is not going to be bound to some contract or sign some stupid prenup. As for the properties to be transferred, it is a custom. Remember what my grandmother said to you? Whenever someone marries into the family we always give them their own wealth, so they feel like equals, so they are independently wealthy and can spend without asking for allowances.”

“I will agree on one condition,” Sherlock said as the butler left the room with John’s bags, “You will reconcile with your sister, Harriet. Consider that your engagement gift to me.”

John gave him a mesmerized glance before he pulled him into his arms. “You amazing man you! I had been thinking about that for a while now and you just pulled the words out of my mouth and said them. It’s like we share one brain, one chain of thought or something like that….” He kissed Sherlock on the forehead, “You see, I think this is a year of healing and reconciling. If I am expecting you to reconcile with your family then I must lead the way. Whether or not she was from the wedlock, we share a parent. Harry and I share a mother and for that she deserves to be a part of my life, of all this, of this family. If my dad and my grandmother had no problems either, then it’s foolish of me to be such a stick in the mud.”

“Thanks Jawn.”

“You’re welcome and thank you too!”

***

In the absence of Mary Morstan, Mike Stamford was handling all the affair and a day later he brought Sherlock some papers. “What are these?” Sherlock asked. He was just finishing an online class he was teaching.

“Two sets of papers for two properties Sherlock.”

Mike had always been polite with him but there was an extra warmth and kindness in his voice that was probably the result of Sherlock’s deeper and genuine relationship with Sherlock. No more was he the outsider bound by a contract but a family member now. “Here, you need to sign them,” Mike added, pointing at small dots he had made on several pages of the sheaf of papers he’d brought, “One is a rowhouse in Paddington Avenue. The other is a farmhouse in Mural.” Sherlock nodded and asked, “These are very expensive real estate, aren’t they?”

“Yes. Together worth about twenty million I think.”

“Um…. Is it alright if I take a look at the papers in detail and sign them only after John is back?”

“Absolutely,” Mike said and left him alone. Sherlock didn’t want to tell him the real reason he wasn’t signing the documents. He didn’t want anything monetary from John, not until he had solved the Jim problem and clarified everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-Oh, John will meet someone in London.


	17. The beginning of the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange stirrings behind the scenes as Sherlock prepares to have a heart to heart chat with his Jawn!

“Johnny boy, hey, how are you?”

John looked up from his phone and raised an arm at Sebastian, waving him over towards the bar. As the handsome blond man joined him, John asked the bartender, who knew them both very well, to bring the ‘usual stuff’ for him and the colonel.

After the initial greetings, backslapping and some amount of banter and asking about each other’s health and work, Sebastian spoke about how his latest book had made him a celebrity of sorts. He was going on a book tour and that would be through Commonwealth nations as well as a few additional countries like Japan, UAE and Brazil. John spoke about his desire to get back into his work as a doctor and upgrade himself from general practitioner to a surgeon. Their drinks arrived and they clinked glasses, toasting to each other’s health and happiness. “So when are you leaving for that tour?” John asked after they had been served with some finger food to go with their drinks.

“Tomorrow.”

“Oh…. And when were you planning to tell me?”

“Now, today.”

“But I called for this. What if I hadn’t called?”

“John, you are the same person as you used to be when we were kids. Always expecting fairness, always expecting people to acknowledge and make effort, always thinking the world thinks the way you think, feel and behave.”

John snorted, “Never acquired your street smart ways Seb. We have always been similar yet different. Anyways, I forgive you, like many other things before and if you could also move on from some of those little grievances…. It’s always better if we keep things on an even keel.”

“Sorry bro, but things between us will never be on an even keel,” Sebastian spoke with a slight edge to his voice, a deep voice that sometimes made John nervous. As kids, the height difference and later as young adults Sebastian’s deep authoritarian voice and military exploits had made him feel not only inadequate at times but also intimidated. But he was a changed man now, thanks to Sherlock, and with his confidence restored he felt more prepared than ever to take Sebastian head on.

“Explain,” he said.

Sebastian blinked, “You want me to spell it out? Well, sure thing. You see, the difference in status, wealth and opportunities create the biggest divisiveness between people, families. You with your billions and your contacts, your ability to buy and position anything you wish for, in whichever direction you wish to, that’s something I can’t compete with. Maybe I don’t want to compete with that. But let’s not pretend we are equals, not when you clearly hold an advantage over me because of where you were born.”

John sighed. He was expecting this. He had called Sebastian for a reason.

“Look cuz,” he began on a very even tone, a calm and steady voice, “I don’t disagree that I have been born privileged. But that’s not a sin. I don’t need to apologize for it or make it up to others for that. It’s like ‘I am Bruce Springsteen or Ed Sheeran, I can sing really well and therefore I have to be extremely apologetic to those who don’t have the gift of a singing voice’. That’s not how the world works and a street smart person like you, someone who has roughed it out as well as seen sophisticated and cultured society, a true all-rounder, should very easily figure out. Also, to be frank, your parents had a chance of building on the wealth they had instead of squandering it. At least that way you’d be millionaires several times over rather than……”

“Go ahead,” Sebastian said darkly, “Say the words.”

“Nah,” John shook his head, “That used to be your mum, your dad. I am aware you’re not like that really.”

“Yeah, instead of begging money from Dame Rosalie Watson I had to beg from you.”

“Seb… please!”

“Sorry, that came out wrong. I don’t intend to be bitter but sometimes life just throws a lemon at you and in a rather insulting way.”

“You are a man I can never be Seb,” John tried to explain, “A decorated military officer, an exemplary one who made to the rank of colonel in just nine years, a celebrated author and the poster child of alpha male community. You have made your own fortunes in the past few years, in both fame and currency, and I don’t think you ever need to beg anyone for cash again. Whatever I gave you in the past will never be brought up again, nor will I be talking about what we’re going to do today.”

“Today?” Sebastian lowered his brows.

“I know you always wanted to stay across the Pond. US of A.”

“Yeah, I still do, so?”

“I have a seventy nine percent share in a Las Vegas casino. It’s profitable and new, barely five years old. Right next door is a prestige high-rise, where several celebrities and businessmen and women live. I have an apartment there, a five bedroom duplex apartment with a private terrace and mini pool and jacuzzi. I am signing over both to you, my shares and stake in the casino and the apartment. You can start a new life there if you so wish. I promise you this won’t be brought up again, never again. No one will know about this, not even Sherlock, whom I intend to marry soon and settle down with.”

Sebastian gave him a startled look, “Sherlock? You mean that kid you introduced us to the other day, when we visited? You are getting married to him? Already?”

***

“23,436,000 approximately,” Rosalie said between coughing fits, “That’s how much I have personally given to Sebastian’s father Henry and his grandmother, my sister Rosamunde. But Rose and Harry were forever in need of money, always cash strapped. Henry’s father, my brother in law Jonas, was the archetypal poor nobleman with the habits of a prince and in my sister he found the perfect mate. They are not around anymore so I won’t say much about them but I know this, after Henry passed five years, his wife ran away and never looked back at the family or even at her boy again. She seemed glad to be rid of them.”

“Is Sebastian also like his father?” Sherlock asked, helping her sip some water.

She sighed and didn’t say anything but Elizabeth Smallwood, who was also present there, didn’t mince words at all. “A man can never wean himself away completely from his roots,” she spoke without bitterness, there was only sadness in her tone, “For example, you may leave your home but influences of your home and family will never leave you. I must say he was a model son/nephew for us until he retired and started a civilian life. Since then he has been approaching John for cash just as his father used to speak to John’s dad or his grandmother kept pestering Dame Rosalie for financial help. The bad news, there is never an end to their unscrupulous requirements.”

“Oh….”

“Untether John from this man. Give him a lump sum but cut him out of your lives.”

“But they are cousins.”

“And you will be husbands, soon. That sounds a lot closer to me.”

Dame Rosalie wheezed a little, then took Sherlock’s hand, “You will become unpopular for sure but that doesn’t matter. Sometimes it takes a partner to sort out the house when the other partner is too kind and sometimes timid to throw trouble out of the window.”

He will be trouble in future, I agree with that too. Especially since he has found another person like himself. Jim is as much of a parasite, a leech as Sebastian is. In Jim’s case, he is a conniving man too.

“Sure thing,” Sherlock said emotionally as he watched the woman sink further into her pillows and mattress, “I will keep that in mind. But you don’t speak so much now gran, you seem rather weak to me and you feel a bit too cool to the touch. Has the doctor taken a look at you yet?”

“He has,” she said with a sad smile, “But I am at that stage of my life where the doctor can’t do much except give some shots and medications and hope the engine runs a bit longer. But I am not complaining really. Many people after the age of eighty get laid up for years in bed, get strapped on to feeding machines and ventilators. I have not had such misfortune, which I should be grateful for.”

***

John had finished three days’ work in two days and was happy as a lark. He couldn’t wait to go home and meet his man again. Already loaded with gifts, which he had picked up during and after lunch hour, he briefly considered calling him before deciding to keep his early return a secret. He was packing his bags, ready to check out of the luxury hotel he was staying in, when he got a call from Mycroft Holmes. When he answered the call, Mycroft greeted him and almost immediately said he wanted to take Mike Stamford into a conference call and they would speak to John together.

“But why can’t it wait? I was going to meet you day after and I’ll meet Mike tomorrow….”

“No, please, John we have to do this because you need to know something right away,” Mycroft said, his voice calm as ever but an undercurrent of agitation clearly audible to John, “As not just your lawyer but also your friend, not to mention I am your gran’s legal counsel too, there are some situations that I can’t just ignore or leave for a later hour. I have spoken to Mike already, it was he who called me when he couldn’t get in touch with you; and even he agrees with me.”

“Agrees on what?”

“Let me conference him in.”

“Yes, go ahead and do that then. But make it quick, I have to go back home tonight. I intend to board my private jet in an hour.”

“You’re getting engaged John?”

“I already am. Sorry Mycroft, not that I am supposed to tell you of the events of my private life, but this I certainly would have shared. It happened suddenly and I had other priorities. The reason I had requested your presence was because I wanted to make some changes to my will and also transfer some of my properties…..”

“You have already been doing a few of these transfers, with your other legal counsel…..”

“Myc, what are you trying to get at?”

“John you are being swindled, you have been swindled,” Mycroft said in a low, somber tone, “While doing a rejig of your accounts, Mike found some things that caught his attention. At the same time I got a call from an anonymous caller who told me there has been a theft in your estate and we need to check that out as well. For now, I am requesting you to keep everything confidential. Not a word about this, not even to your grandmother or your boyfriend or even Mary. This could be anyone and we won’t hold anybody above suspicion until we have investigated the facts. Okay, Mike is already on the call…” he waited a couple of seconds as they heard some background noise, “Hey Mike, you on the call? Can you hear my voice clearly?”

“Yes Mycroft, I can.”

John realized something was seriously wrong. Mike had sounded so ebullient and cheerful before he had left the property. Now he sounded as if he was weighed down by some burden. He was not only sullen but also a bit afraid of something or someone. “Guys,” he called out, “If there is something I must know then please call it out loud and clear. I don’t do well with riddles, I am one for clear, crisp communication.”

“John…. This is about your fiancé.”

“This is about Sh…..”

“Let me tell you the damages first John. We don’t need to go into the details, like his name or anything else associated with him. You know why I am saying that, don’t you?” Mike was a bit clipped in his speech and John understood why. Mycroft was not aware of his deal/contract with Sherlock. For very good reasons he didn’t want that to be known to the hawk-eyed lawyer and knowing the proximity Mycroft shared with Dame Rosalie, it was best kept under wraps.

“Yes, I do understand,” John responded.

To their relief even Mycroft didn’t seem eager for the name. “I think we must look at the act and not the person. Once we understand the damages, we can figure out who the culprit is and after that it’s your call John, if you want me to take any action. To be honest, from whatever I have heard so far, it seems to be an inside job. It’s someone who knows you and the house very well who’s done this.”

By then John was beginning to feel betrayed already. His fragile confidence on people, his long injured trust, his natural insecurities about truth, loyalty and faith had already been shaken enough and he wasn’t sure he was prepared for another blow.

_At least I have Sherlock now_ , he thought, _at least this time I won’t have to suffer through this alone. I will have someone with me, beside me, someone who has an innate ability to make me feel better and more positive._

***

“Sherlock, Sherlock, wake up man!”

Sherlock had fallen asleep late the night before, actually as late as 2-30 am. He was totally zonked out when the insistent ringing of his phone woke him up around 7-30 am. Not a naturally effusive and energetic morning person, he was grumpy and half asleep and answered it with a mumbled ‘h’lo’ and nodded off again, until the words brought him back to reality. It was Mary’s voice and she sounded very alarmed and concerned. “Hey,” he rubbed his eyes, “Hi, sorry, I am awake now…. How come you’re calling? Weren’t you supposed to be sailing towards Crete this week?”

“Yes I was Sherlock and I am calling you from the ship,” Mary answered, sadness replacing the earlier alarm in her tone, “I am with my partner and we were just having our morning tea at the deck on our level when….. When John called me. He told me…. Wait a moment, don’t you know it yet? Has no one told you the news yet Sherlock?” She sounded quite incredulous and Sherlock felt his stomach drop slightly. “Is this…. Is this about John? He is away on business and-and I don’t see any missed calls from him today…..??” He asked, already getting out of bed.

“No, not him, he is fine.”

“Oh thank God.”

“I thought so. He didn’t inform you yet. Maybe he wanted to do this in person but I thought you should know.”

  
“Know what Mary?”

“Rosalie passed. John told me she breathed her last in her sleep and about an hour and half ago someone found out. Most likely it was her nurse. The doctor confirmed it too. There was nothing they could do to bring her back.”

“Ohhh Goddd,” Sherlock felt a genuine pinch of sadness and shock, “Yesterday I was with her. She did appear a bit pale and was having mild breathing problems. The doctor checked but didn’t consider her condition serious enough to warrant a ventilator or even additional oxygen. She spoke to me for almost an hour. She called me…. I-I guess she must have felt something, she probably wanted to say goodbye.”

Mary exhaled slowly, “I know. She was a good person. Very fair, generous and intelligent. A very strong woman with a remarkable zest of life and a dry sense of humor. I am so sorry.”

“I think I should talk to John,” Sherlock’s full concern was about his fiancé, “It must not have been easy on him. He was not so close to her but I think she was all he had in terms of family. Her strength and her spirit inspired him so much and she was probably the only person he really, really trusted and counted upon.”

“Look, my wedding is planned for next week. I don’t think my soon-to-be husband will appreciate it if I go back because of John. While they get along very well, you know how something like this will make the equation worsen. I apologize for being selfish but I thought since you are already there, you’ll be able to take charge of the situation and also support John as a friend and partner.”

He had understood already by then that John would need a lot of support at this juncture. The man was just about beginning to recover from his earlier depression and complexities, insecurities, angst and misfortunes in his personal life. To lose someone who was the last parental figure left in his life, it would be a big blow to the man. “Of course Mary, goes without saying,” Sherlock was in the bathroom, squeezing toothpaste on his brush, “I shall speak to him right away and be there next to Rosalie until he’s back. Thanks for letting me know about this tragedy. I truly appreciate it. I shall speak to you again soon, okay? You take care and try and get over this if you can. Enjoy the cruise and advance congratulations to you and Joseph for your wedding. Take care, I have to go now.”

In less than ten minutes he was done with his morning routine and dressed in a pair of jeans and T shirt, shoes and socks on, ready to face the day. His plan was to call John on his way towards Rosalie’s quarters and tell him to take it easy, to travel safe and come back quickly, but just as he was about to exit the bedroom suite he saw Eckhart standing there. He looked tense, he looked very wound up. Sherlock said softly, “Eckhart, I heard about…..”

“Mr. Watson…. He wants to see you in his study Mr. Bouffler. Not at the home office…. in his study.”

“He is back home already? When did he arrive? Why didn’t someone tell me?”

Eckhart’s voice was tight. He seemed uncomfortable. He didn’t seem like his usual self, where he was cordial and polite and professional but also very warm and sensitive. It seemed as if he would rather not be doing this, not be talking to Sherlock about this. “Eckhart what is wrong?”

“I think it would be best if you get that answer from Mr. Watson.”

“Okay I shall go and see him.”

The butler said something that gave Sherlock a true indication that something was really wrong and it went beyond the death of Dame Rosalie. “Excuse me sir…. but I have been instructed to escort you there, right away.”


	18. Rock Bottom is the best place to start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds an unexpected supporter in his hour of grief. Sherlock finds himself cut out of the picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to be away for almost a month and not answering several comments/emails. I underwent a major surgery to remove all my female parts and had to be on the recovery route for a few weeks. Back now, getting better by the day, hope some of you are still interested in the story. Missed being here and posting. Cheers!

When Sherlock stepped into the study, he saw Mike Stamford and Greg Lestrade sitting there along with John. At first he thought they were consoling John for his loss but when they turned and looked at him he saw something had actually changed in their attitude towards him. The earlier warm, friendly looks were replaced by ones of coldness and detachment. His stomach did a few backflips. This didn’t seem good.

No one looks like that in a house where someone had just passed away and where people are supposed to be in deep mourning. This is about something else.

He stood there, half way between the area leading towards John’s study and the library on the other side, unsure of what to do or what to say. For the first time in a little over three months he wasn’t even sure of his welcome in this house. Eckhart stood right behind him, like a sentry, guarding his routes. It hurt Sherlock to think that he was being treated like a thief or some intruder, as if he’d escape into parts of the house and touch objects that should be inaccessible to him. He tried to read John’s face but it was stony and stoic, there was nothing he could figure out from that visage. But one thing he was sure. John’s feelings for him had changed and it was definitely not for the better.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, looking straight at John. He had a feeling about what this might be but he didn’t want to second guess.

John just gestured for the two men to leave and on their way out they took Eckhart out of the room too. The door closed behind them, leaving John and Sherlock alone for the time being.

“Jawn… I am so, so sorry for your loss, really I am,” Sherlock chose to begin in the safe route, condole him for the death of his beloved nana.

“Which one?”

The voice was curt. The tone rude and clipped. His expression showed loathing and anger.

“What-What do you mean?”

“Oh please, stop it now, stop it already,” John held up a hand and raised his voice, “Between the two of us, we both know what it is and why we’re meeting like this today, in changed circumstances. I would have preferred to keep you forever, I had dreamt we will share this house and this life together, but it was your choice to end it by betraying my trust. So please, don’t try and put up an act now because I have proof of what you have done.”

_But I haven’t done anything. Aside from that half a million. I could tell him he doesn’t need to pay me. That would square things up. I hadn’t done a thing in accordance to Jim’s directions so what is it that he is holding against me? My initial pact with Jim? That’s not written anywhere._

“What happened?” John snarled, now sounding disgusted with Sherlock’s silence, “Cat caught your tongue? Want me to spell it all out? I thought you were a bit better and cleverer than that dear Sherlock.”

“I don’t understand, what exactly do you mean J….”

  
“Don’t take my name, don’t mention it, just-just don’t do that again,” John snapped, his voice tightly knotted just as his athletic frame was tightly wound up, “I have had enough of your lies, deceit and cheating. You really couldn’t find another person to do this to, could you? There are many wealthy folks in this world and you, with your angel face and hypnotic eyes, this body and corrupted soul, but the silver tongue, you-you could easily find someone else to dope… I mean, dupe. You are just…. If only you had asked, if only you had asked for my help Sherlock. I invest fifty percent of my yearly earnings on charity. Almost two hundred million to three hundred million. I could have easily given you the other half!!!”

“I have never cheated on you. I never stole from you.”

“Liar.”

  
“No Jawn, please listen to me…”

“SHUT UP YOU LIAR, YOU FILTHY LIAR.”

“Jawn!!!” Sherlock winced and stepped back, shocked by the tone and the look on his man’s face. He had never seen such condescension from anyone, not even Jim, not even from his parents when he had left them for Jim. This was something else. John was vibrating with rage and he knew that if he was but only a little closer, those strong hands would be lodged at his throat and surely strangle or choke him to death.

“You lied at every step. You and Jim are lovers. You cheated on me and Jim cheated on Sebastian.”

“No, no, no, you got that wrong….”

“I have seen texts exchanged between you two. You agreed to do this for money, not the legit money you would be paid but for more. You two had planned to dupe me and you did.”

For a moment Sherlock was speechless. This was the very thing Jim had warned him about. He had threatened Sherlock a few weeks ago, telling him clearly that he’d ruin him, make him look so bad in John’s eyes that it would drive them apart. He had indeed kept his word. “I-I really didn’t dupe you, I didn’t even want to take the five hundred thousand…. Jim was blackmailing me and I was forced to…..”

“Oh you innocent little lamb,” John mocked him, sneering at him openly, “Someone forced you, someone fooled you, someone misguided you, it’s always someone else who is the aggressor and manipulator and you are the innocent victim huh! You really want me to believe this nonsense? Then you don’t know me. I might be a nice man but I am not stupid.”

“I can give you back that money,” Sherlock said desperately, “Just don’t pay me for my services and that could almost entirely get squared up…..”

“Oh no, it’s not five hundred thousand but five million,” John said in a harsh tone of voice, waving his right hand at some papers in front of him, “Internal audits revealed discrepancy of spend and some unaccounted amounts being drawn and when I matched it with the cheque number it turned out to be the one I had given you. YOU!! I didn’t write anything other than the numerical figure so you took full advantage and, along with Jim, cashed in on a windfall huh??? Add some zeroes, add the absolute figure in writing as ‘Five million only’ and con me out of my money. This money is just a drop in the ocean for me but it’s not the amount that bothers me, but the greed and the deceptions and pretenses you resorted to steal it from me. You are a thief, a robber, a cheat.”

“Noo-oo Jawn, please….”

“Oh don’t even go there because sympathy I have none. Not for you at least. Not after what you have done lately. I got to know a very rare and extremely expensive piece of jewelry was sold in the market recently and a Swedish noblewoman, a first cousin of the king, she bought it for a grand price of 154 million. Yeah, I am talking about that gorgeous neckpiece in my mummy’s collection, one only you had seen with your own eyes. You also knew the combination to the two levels of locks on the door, the manual as well as the biometric code.”

Sherlock got a jolt at that. So John’s mother’s necklace had been stolen and sold. Now things began to come back to him. He could put two and two together. The sounds he had heard while napping with John in the den on that side of the house, the flash of blond he had seen at the window the other day, the fact that Jim was suddenly in the house and no one else knew, it all added up. Sebastian and Jim had leveraged information culled from him, found a way to break the lock or disable the alarms and stolen the necklace.

“I haven’t done this, I really haven’t,” he lamented his naiveté and stupidity but there was no excuse he could offer to John. It was, after all, his fault and right now he could see exactly how to looked from John’s lenses. He saw Sherlock as a scheming, lying, greedy bastard.

“It wasn’t just about the hundred and fifty million or the five million,” John’s disgust turned towards his own self, his annoyance now self-directed, “It’s about how I trusted you blindly and allowed you to dupe me. Once again, I lost to someone I trusted and loved.”

“Jawn, I love you too…”

  
“Oh shut the fuck up. At least don’t insult my intelligence, don’t act like you are a real angel. There’s a difference between someone who looks good and someone who is a good man. You are a conniving prick who takes advantage of his looks. You’re a man who’s far wiser than his years and way too cunning for people like me. Tell me Sherlock, what was next on the agenda, steal more money, take over properties, giving your boyfriend my family heirlooms?”

“Don’t say that, give me a chance to explain….”

“Don’t bat those lashes at me or use that tone of innocence. You are anything but innocent. Had it not been for Mike’s diligence, my accountant doing an audit and Sebastian warning me about you, I wouldn’t have probably know so soon. By the time I’d have realized, I would have suffered losses of huge magnitude, perhaps my reputation too. I might have been married to you already and you’d have squeezed one fourth of my assets out of me…..” He paused, raising his hand to stop Sherlock who had begun to protest and vouch for his innocence and honesty, his beguiling attractiveness or his child-like charms. “Don’t say a word after this. I am glad my grandmother is not even alive to see this…. Disaster.”

“You can’t believe Sebastian. He’s a master manipulator. Your nana told me how he and his family have always leeched money off you…..”

“Is that so? Poor nana had no idea she was telling a thief the story of a smaller robber. Yes, Seb’s father and grandmother have been serial beggars but they are family. They have some right over our wealth and are entitled to filial support. You can’t escape blame for your deeds by shifting the blame on to him. He has been cheated on too, your boyfriend, the devious Jim, who used his own sex-appeal and looks to trap Seb just as you trapped…..”

“You chose me,” Sherlock finally broke, anger and grief rising within him, “You lied to your nana. She was just an elderly, kind-hearted and affectionate woman for me but to you she was the only family left in this house. _You took a bridegroom on hire_ , just to con her into….”

“GET OUT.”

“Wha…. What?”

John was fuming, “I said, get the fuck out of here. Not just this room but my house and the vicinity. Never show me your face again.”

“Jawn, believe me, I never meant any harm. I had turned Jim down, told him I won’t hurt you or steal from you and that’s why he turned on me. Tell me, if I was with and we were scheming together, then wouldn’t I have run off by now, knowing Sebastian _knows about us?”_

“Who knows?” John said rudely, “You were expecting a bigger windfall and perhaps though I’d never truly discover your deceit and theft.”

“You can check my house, my bags and my bank balance, you’ll see that I have neither the cash nor the necklace,” Sherlock moved closer to John but the man pulled back with such hatred in his eyes that the younger man stopped in his tracks, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He wanted to cry but couldn’t. He just felt dizzy and it was difficult for him to breathe.

“There are other places for you to hide them, including that friend of yours, Jim. Anyways, be gone. It seems my nana had a change of mind and changed her will accordingly. All that she owned is also mine. Not just my thirty odd percent but the entire thing. I no longer need your toxic presence next to me or even an iota of your help anymore. Just don’t expect a payoff or bonus because you’ve already stolen about a hundred and sixty million from me already.”

Sherlock couldn’t even say the words ‘This isn’t about the money, this is about us, this is about how deeply I am in love with you’. His blood had run cold, his eyes stung with unshed tears, his hands shook at his side and he had to clasp them together to steady them. _How am I going to live now? How am I going to live without this man? How am I going to wake up tomorrow knowing I will never see him again?_ With an unsteady, shaky release of breath he said, “At least won’t you allow me to explain? Won’t you let me tell you my side of the story. Every story has two sides and you’re only going by what you’ve seen, whatever has been told to you by a set of papers and documents.”

“Seeing is believing,” John huffed.

“I know but…..”

“And no one who spoke to me has anything to gain from this. None of them are a replacement for you or even a possible replacement. I have known them for years and whatever they’ve shared with me is hardcore proof of your dishonesty and lies.”

“Jawn…..”

“We are done. Pack your bags and leave right away. Never come back or try to contact me.”

Sherlock could see John’s voice was hoarse too, his eyes were red and he gripped the edge of the table real hard to stay upright. _This isn’t easy on him either but he’s so angry, so disgusted with me, how will I ever get a chance to explain myself. Nah, he doesn’t even want it_. “Won’t you miss me? Did you ever love me? You’re just throwing me out like a stray! I thought we shared a lot more than just…. That you will believe me when…..”

“No, I never loved you. You were a great lay and a nice pastime but that’s over. Go. OUT.”

This was followed by a cackling, dark laughter that shocked the five senses out of Sherlock. Moments later Greg was by his side. He had come in when John had shouted just now. “C’mon,” said the older man in a stern voice, “Time to leave.”

***

John had no idea how he had managed to do this.

When he heard the faint thud of the study/library door closing it felt like a chapter of his life had ended on his face. The most beautiful chapter and yet, ironically, the shortest and darkest one he had ever known.

Not even when his mum had died or his sister had left had he felt so bad, nor by the deaths of his father and his grandmother. Right now, ‘terrible’ and ‘crushed’ were understatements if he were to talk about his devastated feelings. It seemed as if all his reasons for living and breathing had disappeared with Sherlock and he knew those reasons would never come back, never ever. With years and years of isolation, introspection and anger-laced regrets, he had reached the end of the road. Why, oh why did Sherlock have to breeze into his life and teach him to love life again, to dream and have ambitions, to smile and look forward to the next day? He had already struck a fortunate compromise with his situation, he had got accustomed to it.

Now if he went back there, he’d lose his equilibrium.

No, he couldn’t go on like this. _He just couldn’t._

Seeing Sherlock stand there, teary eyed, shaking, was enough to make his heart melt but his principle and values had prevented him from forgiving a man who was a liar, a cheat and a conniving rascal. Irrespective of his need and circumstances, Sherlock should have come to him and confessed the truth. Instead he had gone along with the other guy’s plans, which proved his feelings for John were always secondary to his feelings for Jim.

A pained and low groan escaped him. His thoughts turned suicidal. The fact that he was now free to enjoy his fortunes, that he was truly worth about twenty three billion with no further obstacles like his nana’s terms and conditions or any obligation to marry, didn’t matter to him any longer. Nothing mattered to him any longer. He had given up, he was happy to give it all up and just…..

He heard the car start outside. He rushed instantly to the window of his study from where one could see the portico and the path leading out to it.

He saw the car leave. Sherlock’s car.

“Sher…..” he stretched out his hand and stopped himself at the last moment, withdrawing quickly behind the drapes as the car passed by the window and he saw Sherlock looking in his direction. One more time if he met this young man face to face his resolve would crumble.

No, he wasn’t going to let that happen. He knew what he had to do. Yes, this was the only way out. He was going to end this life, end his misery once and for all. With that thought he reached for a paper-cutter knife, with a sharp and shiny blade, it’s handle inscribed with his name. a present from Sherlock. How ironical! He would die from this instrument and give their tragic tale the finest footnote. He picked it up and raised his arm.

*SMACK*

That hit across his right cheek was followed by a few choicest expletives and an angry female voice calling him a ‘coward’. John blinked and staggered backwards a few steps, the force of that slap having turned his head to one side and thrown his off balance for a moment. That was one powerful slap, the sort that he had experienced a couple of times as a kid, during one or more of their fights. He had no idea he missed it so much, that he missed her so much. The paper knife dropped from his hands and he gasped out the name that he had given her as a nickname many years ago, a name that had stuck to her and made her complain several times. “You goofball, who the hell calls a woman Harry?!”

“Harry….”

“Jack.”

“I-I am… I hadn’t heard you come in…”

“Thank God. Or else you would have waited to do this to yourself later, huh?”

“I don’t know what came over me.”

“Oh yeah? I think it’s the spirit of our dead mother sitting on your shoulder, eh? You idiot, you foolish ass! You are such a coward. No excuses, _you’re just like her_ , someone who’s poor at making effort and moving on.”

“Harry please, you have no idea what’s happened to me and how I have suffered. I have been betrayed all over again.”

She relented slightly and put her hand over his, pressing down gently. He looked at her properly for the first time. _Gosh, they did look similar._ They were also the same height. John had always loathed that. At five feet seven inches he was a short man, at five feet six inches Harriet was a tall girl. She hadn’t put on weight but the intervening years had aged her, though not badly. She had a regal aura of self-assurance about her now. He admired that. “You look very good, very confident, so sure of yourself,” he murmured.

She smiled, tossing back her short auburn hair, “You look totally awful. You need some help and Emilia and I are here to help you. We will be happy to help you. Please John, now that you have taken the step to reconcile, let it be a proper reconciliation. Let me do what a sister is expected to do, what a family member is supposed to do when one needs help and support. First, let’s go and see our grandmother.”


	19. Siblings to the rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siblings aren't always pests, sometimes they are wingless angels!

Harry tousled John’s hairs, “I want us to sit next to her and reminisce, thank and say goodbyes. We should do this for closure. Then we must give her a grand adieu, by God she deserves that.”

John nodded, realizing that he had indeed been very selfish so far. He had only thought of himself, not the deceased grandparent.

“Yes, we should go and see her, I haven’t seen her yet,” he said with ample regret in his voice, “Thanks for reminding me about my duties. Sometimes I do tend to behave like mum, just put myself on centerstage and not look at all the bystanders who deserve to be there…. Harry, Harry I am sorry. Whatever you saw, I am sorry, you should have never seen me like that, I should have never done that, I am sorry….” He took her arm, noticing that she seemed relieved and happy at his reaction, “Come on, we must go and pay our respects to nana….. oh, by the way, did Mike write to you about coming over today? We were supposed to meet tomorrow, weren’t we?”

“Yes,” she said, “You had said that and I was prepared to be here tomorrow. But some time ago I got a text from someone named…. An unusual name, yeah, Sherlock. Yes, he sent me a text saying I should be here immediately and about the sad news of nana’s death. The call from Mike came only half an hour ago, when I was already close to the estate. John, who is Sherlock, what happened, why do you look so pale???”

“Never mind,” John swallowed the emotions that had welled up in a lump at his throat, “It’s nobody important.”

***

“Why did you stop the car?”

Sherlock lit a cigarette, one hand still on the wheel of his rundown vehicle. He scowled at Greg, “You worried that I will go back to the estate? I won’t. I am persona non grata there. The security guards, the retainers won’t allow me. You go. I can drive myself back to Baker Street.”

Greg bent down a bit to bring himself to the level of the car window and Sherlock’s face. “Hey, don’t pretend you have been wronged. You made a mistake and suffered the repercussions and punishment. The only important thing here is that you learn a lesson from this and never do something as stupid again. You threw away an amazing life and an awesome man’s love! But all that aside, I don’t want you to self-harm either. You seem quite out of it so I will drive right behind you all the way to Baker Street if I have to.”

Anger surging through him and finally finding an outlet, Sherlock abruptly opened the car door and stepped out. Then he yelled at Greg Lestrade, “Now you don’t pretend you really care. You’re worried about your money, about your professional connect with John, nothing else.”

“Fair enough, you can say whatever…..”

Another car came by and screeched to a halt a few meters ahead. Then it reversed and Greg, recognizing the swanky Mercedes S class, quickly stepped forward to greet the person behind the wheel. Sherlock remained behind next to his own car, leaning against it and puffing away.

The window rolled down on the driver’s side and a very familiar face emerged. “Gregory, what are you doing here, parked by the highway?”

“Hey Mycroft good morning,” Greg shook hands with him and greeted him in a low voice, so Sherlock wouldn’t overhear, “Boy, am I glad to see you! John will need a ton of help from you. All those papers need to be changed, ownership transferred to John’s name. Also some recent changes he had asked for, from his second legal counsel, those papers have to be taken care of too. If necessary he may also issue a legal notice to this….. the kid standing over there. Yeah, it’s him, the conman who robbed John of hundreds of million. I was trying to get him back home because after all that he had suffered through, John still doesn’t want him hurt. Said I should ensure he reaches home safe and sound.”

“That is….” Mycroft noticed the other car and man for the first time. His eyes grew big and his jaw dropped. He got out of his car, almost hitting Greg with the door as he opened it abruptly and hard, his eyes fixed on the tall, lean figure across the road, plumes of smoke rising around him as he dragged on a cigarette.

“Yes,” Greg said, “Unfortunately, I am the one who….. Mycroft, CAREFUL.”

Mycroft had almost walked into a passing vehicle. He was crossing the highway like a blind man, as if he couldn’t see or even hear the traffic. Fortunately this side of the highway wasn’t too busy and he didn’t get run over. Greg crossed after him, more cautiously, calling out to him all the time. “Hey, Mycroft, hey?”

The passing cars narrowly missed them, some avoiding them last moment and others coming to a halt. One motorist stuck her head out and cursed colorfully but Mycroft heard nothing of that. Greg turned and apologized, calming her down. “Stop acting like maniacs, behave like the grown men that you are,” she hissed and went off.

“Hey you don’t need to talk to him,” he caught up with Mycroft again, “John was very clear we don’t need to engage him anymore, not even in a conversation…. He is a conman and a thief, he could blackmail John and cause him more stress…..”

“Shut up Gregory.”

“Huh????”

“He is neither a blackmailer nor a conman. It’s John who is mistaken. And not one more unflattering word about him, not even from you.”

“Mycroft but why are you taking his side?” Greg was aghast at the sudden change in the lawyer’s behavior. So far he had been on their side and was badmouthing and criticizing John’s fiancé along with them.

“Because,” Mycroft turned and gave him a long, hard look, his body language defensive and aggressive at the same time, “That kid standing there is my estranged brother. He is a Holmes and I swear he can NEVER do any of those things he’s accused of.” 

He rushed towards his brother and called out his name, a stunned Greg right on his heels. Sherlock turned, stared for a moment at his brother and Greg right behind him, then blankly stared at the way ahead. The cigarette dropped from his hands and he gave the two men another strange and blank look, then murmured something like ‘I don’t even know how it went so wrong…..’ before he keeled over and right into Mycroft’s arms. Greg also stepped forward and grabbed him, prompting Mycroft to snap at him. “I got him. Please bring my car here so I can put him in. He doesn’t…. I mean we don’t need any help from you are anyone associated with John Watson.”

“Mycroft, you’re overreacting.”

“Me? Oh no! I didn’t overreact, in fact I haven’t even reacted yet. He did, John did, as he usually does whenever things go wrong. And now I don’t even want to work with him. How dare he do this to my brother? Thanks a lot Greg, I thought we were friends, in fact you hinted on more than once occasion that you’d like us to be more than friends. You wanna side with him, then we are over. Never try to meet me again.”

“Myc…. What are you saying?”

  
“Then get the car here and call that fellow and tell him to go fuck himself. I am resigning from all responsibilities and duties I have towards him, his associates and the companies where he has invested.”

“Alright, fine, alright I am going to do as you say. But calm down. Let’s look after Sherlock first, then we will discuss John. There is a backstory that you aren’t aware of. You must know that before you take a judgment call.”

***

Sherlock woke up feeling much better physically. But his mind was blank. For a few seconds he couldn’t even remember what he’d been up to before he’d slept.

Slowly some memories came back to him and he slowly blinked and rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the grogginess. Were they dreams or was it reality?

He distinctly remembered Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson. He also remembered a doctor they knew well, a woman in her early seventies who happened to be their father’s friend and their family physician. He remembered being fed something, being given a shot, someone saying, ‘There’s nothing that you should be worried about’ and someone else saying ‘If I had a way I’d teach him a lesson’ and finally Mrs. Hudson shaking her head and murmuring ‘You should have never done this to your family’.

While he processed that information a sudden realization struck him. He was not in the room where he was used to waking up, next to John. He was not even in the one room flat he rented in Baker Street, from his nanny Mrs. Hudson, who was the landlady. He was back in the bedroom where he had grown up as a kid and then spent part of his teenage years in. This was the same room where he stayed off and on even during college. They had kept it exactly as it used to be when he was a child.

The same powder blue walls on three sides and a darker midnight blue on the fourth. The same bay windows and colorful cushions and seating arrangement around it. The same walk-in closet with sliding doors, the bathroom door right next to it. His queen-size bed, his familiar and comfy bed and a mountain of pillows, the desk and chair with a wall mounted bookcase around it, the same chair he’d sat and prepared for his exams in school. Yes, everything was the same, right up to the scent of lavender in the air. There were several tubs of the flower in the attached balcony and the gentle breeze brought the fresh whiff right into the large and well-appointed room.

“Lockie.”

“MYCROFT!!!”

“Why did you get a start…. Christ, don’t tell me you don’t even remember how we met yesterday and the fact that…. I brought you home. When Dr. Stevens came I thought you were awake. You talked and gave her some information too. Mrs. Hudson was there as well.”

So those were not dreams, they were real. “Yes,” he nodded, sitting up, “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Shut it dude. You don’t thank family for such small things or gestures. Or maybe you have finally realized you hadn’t quite acted as a son and brother for two and half years, hence any small brotherly assistance surprises you!”

“Oh well, the same acerbic Myc. But I guess I deserve this.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Now I remember, I collapsed in your arms and-and I thought you-you were defending me.”

“I would still defend you, you are my brother after all, but after speaking at length with Greg last evening I am on neutral grounds really. There were mistakes from both sides but what you’ve done is plain shameful. I am not going to mince words about this, I am truly disappointed and I chose not to tell mummy and daddy when I spoke to them this morning. I just told them you are back and down with a flu, so they don’t suspect anything if you don’t speak to them for a couple more days.”

“Where is mummy…. I mean mum and dad both,” Sherlock looked around, “I did try to call her, last week, but her phone was off and the housekeeper told me she’s traveling. What-what did Grunge talk to you about, exactly?” 

Mycroft suppressed a grin and shook his head in exasperation, “That man is named Gregory, the short form is Greg. You and your mixing and twisting names. Grunge? Hah! Anyways, our mummy and daddy have embarked on a long global tour and the tour’s itinerary is planned for almost six months. Three and half months of that are over already so they should be back sometime in the month after next. Or maybe even sooner. But they’ll call you on Zoom and speak with you in a day or two, since they want to see you and hear from you about how you’re really doing.” He paused and cracked his knuckles as Sherlock gladly accepted the tea he had brought in and sipped it.

After half a minute’s silence, the elder sibling spoke. “I haven’t told them anything about this strange adventure of yours and this latest debacle! I spoke at length with Greg last evening. I called him after Mrs. Hudson assured me you were knocked out. The doctor had given you some meds and a couple of shots and we had managed to feed you some soup and made you drink some water. You seemed to be a zombie all through, babbling, moaning, hardly making any sense.” 

“I’m just…..”

“Yes???”

“The last few months haven’t been my finest hour, to be honest, and the last two and half years were my biggest mistake.”

Mycroft blinked at that, the shock registering on his face. But a twinge of hope flared up in him and he came closer and sat down next to Sherlock on the bed. “Did you just say that Lockie? Have you truly broken up with that poisonous creature, Jim?”

“No prizes for guessing that,” Sherlock said bitterly.

“I didn’t guess. I knew.”

When Sherlock looked at him, surprised, his brother snorted with disdain. “I know this because I’m seeing the familiar Sherlock before me again, the same boy I grew up with and the young man we were so proud of. It’s not a stranger, not someone else’s mouthpiece, but my very own brother Lockie. Needless to say, you’d become a very, very different person in his company.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sherlock whispered.

Mycroft remained quiet for a little while, letting it all sink in. He knew Sherlock would need loads of time to heal. He also knew he would need time too, to properly understand and relate to the situation. His lack of empathy was much talked about in the family and he was very similar to his dad that way, they both meant well but they didn’t necessarily always express themselves well. Sometimes he felt he hadn’t treated his more sensitive brother very well. Perhaps he should have listened to his mum who always knew how to treat her two boys differently and therefore repeatedly advised him to look at things from Sherlock’s perspective, _through his lenses_.

_Yes, that’s what I need to do now. If I truly wish to help him, I have to understand things from his point of view._

“Lockie, will you do me a favor?”

“What favor?”

“Start right from the beginning, from the time you left home after our disagreements and fights and the blowup with dad, right up to yesterday when I found you by the highway. I don’t want you to leave anything to imagination or guess, I want every single detail from you. I have more tea brewed, I have breakfast ready, so we can talk while we eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Mycroft nodded, “The food is there. Scrambled eggs on toast, sausages and fruits. It’s up to you to eat or not. But do tell me everything. Perhaps we can figure out together what needs to be done. I don’t want them to take any legal action or for you to get into any further trouble with Jim. To be able to help you I need to know the details.”

Sherlock hid his face in his hands. “No, leave me alone.”

“Very well. You talk when you are ready.”

Mycroft turned to leave the room when he heard a feeble bleat from his brother. “Myc, wait.” He turned and nodded, “Okay.”

Green eyes focused on his grey-blue orbs. “Tell me the truth brother mine, why are you doing this? You never had much patience for me or any desire to listen to my point of view. All you did was give me hordes and hordes of advice and constant preaching. Why this sudden change? I am thankful for being there for me yesterday, for bringing me here and all that, but I am not sure I am in the frame of mind to be criticized or lectured.”

“Fair point.”

Mycroft leaned against the door, his expression neutral and unreadable as usual. It always made Sherlock a bit nervous. He couldn’t read his brother, not even a bit. Based on their estrangement and slightly cold relationship in the previous years, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Mycroft. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me right away,” Mycroft acknowledged, “I guess we have drifted apart in the past few years but…. Well, it’s up to you to believe me or not, but after you left all three of us had a ‘moment’. We have not been much of a family, have we? Mummy decided to correct that. We went for counseling, we had introspections, family weekends. Things looked up, we grew closer once again…. Just like we used to be when we were kids Sherlock.”

Sherlock stared at a spot on the floor.

“Mummy knew, she always knew you’ll be back one day.”

“Why didn’t she call me?”

“I could you ask you the same question. Why didn’t you call her?”

“I thought she wouldn’t want to talk to me.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what she thought. That you may not want to talk to her.”

Sherlock felt a sudden shiver run down his spine. “Relationships are funny and complex, aren’t they?” He sighed, “We end up trusting the wrong people and pushing away the ones who’ll always be there for us. Something like that happened to me too, which is why I can relate to mummy, daddy and you better. John trusted Sebastian and didn’t even give me a chance to explain anything. That hurt me more than anything else, I swear.”

“So then….” Mycroft tilted his head to one side, looking at him meaningfully.

“Yes brother mine,” Sherlock replied, “I will talk. I will tell you everything.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. I want to share my story with you, unadulterated by lies or deceit. I tried the conman’s life and it’s not for me. I found that out the hard way. So now, I will tell you the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In two more chapters things will slowly resolve and the knots will untie


	20. Six Months Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every cloud has a silver lining.

_Six months later_

Sherlock sat by the window, watching the snow come down in swirls and flakes. It looked very pretty outside, just like fairyland. He was so engrossed in staring at the surroundings and the beautiful and dazzling Christmas tree in their front yard that he didn’t hear someone approach him. He understood when he heard the soft voice, “It’s going to be a White Christmas this year Sherlock, isn’t it?”

She handed him a large mug of hot cocoa, made just the way he liked. He inhaled it deeply and she ruffled his hairs. “Yes mummy,” Sherlock answered with a smile and pointed at the décor of the room he was sitting in, their cozy and spacious den, “Do you like that? Those over there and these I put up here. I thought I’d try some of the homemade decorations this year, groups of reindeer cut out of colored paper and multi-colored balloons twisted and tied into shapes of elves. I also got the firewood on the porch, just like you wanted me to. Give the porch a rustic look, complete with the old fashioned sled.”

“You have always been creative and nimble with your fingers,” his mother said as she sat down beside her son, “Sherlock, I am very happy you finally started to work again. I am sure you will do very well there.” She was referring to a plum position Sherlock had secured after a series of interviews, for a multi-national petrochemical giant, in the research and analysis wing. After five months of counseling and three months of medication for depression and anxiety, he had finally found himself somewhat normal again. As a family they had decided he needed to be busy, to find a purpose in life again. Finding a good job, finding financial independence again was the very first step.

“Yeah, it’s a good company and I have a good boss. Things have been looking up.”

“Mycroft was saying, we can’t do much to….. in fact we can’t do anything to James, or to Sebastian Moran.”

Sherlock chuckled mirthlessly, a flash of anger ripping through him. After many weeks of feeling worthless, sad and restlessness he had finally managed to get over his trauma of losing John and losing out to Jim, but his deep sadness was replaced by a slow, burning rage that refused to go out. His therapist had mentioned this was a good sign, at least his emotions were shifting and changing. He was going beyond denial and self-blame to accepting whatever had happened and learning some lessons from them. All a part of healing, he was told.

Still, he knew he couldn’t forgive Jim or be forgiven by John. But at the same time he also knew John was now above blame.

“I knew about that already mummy,” he said to his mother with a wistful smile, “They were very cunning, both of them and left no breadcrumbs behind. Neither the cops nor Mycroft can do anything to bring them back or incriminate them for their crimes. The necklace was sold by a third party, not them. The money was withdrawn to a joint account between me and Jim and there’s no proof he took it all out and it was not me.”

“They will definitely get their dues, if not now then in the future,” Eugenia said, “Someday they will draw a boatload of bad karma on themselves and one day they will reach the end of the road, where there would be no escape routes, no way and no one to run to. Well, how does it matter to me? I’m just glad my son is alright now and ready to embark on the next phase of his life. Just stay this way, positive, optimistic and…. Maybe a bit more cheerful.”

Sherlock forced himself to smile. For months he had practiced it but still, fake smiles didn’t come easily to him. He felt like he was lying again, projecting some falsehood. After the episode with John he had become averse to doing anything that even remotely resembled falsity. But for his mummy he tried, he coaxed out those fake smiles and false cheer sometimes. Six months earlier, when Mycroft had called their folks to tell them about Sherlock’s situation, the Holmes couple had come back home in a matter of days. They had cut their holiday short without a second thought, choosing to support their son and help him get back on track. The family support had helped enormously in his emotional and psychological recovery and Sherlock knew he would never be able to repay them enough for being there for him when no one else was, for believing him when none others would. 

_So he tried to make them happy in whichever way he could._

“Um…. Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“There is something I wanted to tell you.”

“Sure mummy.”

“Remember, this is Christmas time. A time to heal, love and forgive. Don’t get upset about what I am about to say, okay?”

“Mummy,” Sherlock was a stronger man now, his experiences had made him far more resilient and brazen, “Tell me already. If you keep spinning a web I might lose track of the actual news.”

Eugenia smiled, “Well, I was just…. Anyways, Myc wanted to tell you and he probably would do that tonight. But I thought I might prep you for this. Mycroft and Greg are about to move in together. Yes, Myc’s new house is ready and in the new year Greg will move in with him, as his partner. They will get engaged, probably very soon, but for now they have decided to share a house and see how it works out.”

Sherlock laughed with a snort, “I guessed that already.”

“You did?”

“Yeah and I will tell Myc there’s nothing from my side but good wishes. I hope he gets the life I didn’t get with John.” 

For a few seconds it seemed as if Eugenia Holmes was going to protest or argue about that statement, like she had done many times before whenever Sherlock would bring up any references of John. Several times she had soundly rebuked him for not moving on or still being in love with a person who had never even bothered to check on him, but something worked up inside her that afternoon and she seemed surprisingly sympathetic towards him. “I can’t feel your pain son but I do understand it. Unrequited love can be very painful, very upsetting and frustrating. I gotta go now. Need to do some Christmas shopping. The turkey, the salmon, the crabs, stores run out of those items faster than you know. Sort of blink and miss.”

“I could drive you there,” Sherlock offered, “I could help you.”

She smiled and shook her head. “You already helped me with the house and the garden and the backyard. I got Myc to do his bit for Christmas. He’s promised me that he’ll be helping me today with the shopping and stocking, for both food and the beverages.”

“Okay. But in case you need an extra pair of hands do let me know.”

***

About a couple of hours later, Sherlock heard his mummy leave. He heard Mycroft’s voice and that of the housekeeper, then his daddy getting into his car and mentioning something about meeting a few of his business associates at their club.

Sherlock didn’t pay much attention and went back to the book he was reading. With Christmas only three days away he knew he was perhaps the only man in this city who wished he was still working. He even considered calling his mentor and asking if he could visit the lab tomorrow.

Suddenly the door to his bedroom opened and in walked Gregory Lestrade. Sherlock was lying on the couch in the corner and he was so startled to see this man here, that too in his bedroom, that he abruptly and most comically dropped the heavy novel on his own chest with a thump. Wincing with the pain he got up, a bit annoyed by the other man’s sudden entry. “It’s not your office or John Watson’s study,” he said in a caustic tone, “This is my bedroom. How did you just barge in Mr. Lestrade? Don’t you think you should have knocked.”

“I apologize, yes I should have. But you must understand, for a month I have been looking for a way to talk to you but couldn’t find a single way to spend a few minutes alone with you. Either your brother or your father blocked my way.”

A few amusing visions of Mycroft being the overprotective brother and his father fending Greg off rudely swam before his eyes. Despite everything, it made Sherlock smile. “They were trying to protect me,” he said curtly to the other man, “Anyways, what do you need to talk to me about and how did you manage to get in here? The housekeeper didn’t announce you, nor did the security personnel at the gate.”

“Your mummy helped.”

“Thought so,” Sherlock chuckled. It was very typical of his mummy to give people second chances and to adopt unconventional ways of sorting out stuff. She must have found something worthwhile about Greg’s intentions and purposes and therefore assisted him in getting into the house when both her elder son and her husband were out. _That explains why she wanted Mycroft to help her with the food shopping, clever, clever mummy of mine! And if my mother wants me to do this then I must do it._ He gestured towards a chair for Greg to sit and sat up properly on the couch, closing the book. “Very well then, I am here and you have at least an hour or so to tell me whatever you wish to. Then I guess Myc and mummy would be back. Don’t waste time Gerard, go on.”

“It’s Gregory, or Greg. This is about John.”

“Please, no….”

“Also to say I am very sorry. I should have heard your side of the tale.”

“Doesn’t matter. But your apology is accepted.”

“But we want to help you, we want to sort this out and get you and John back together again. You guys are genuinely good for each other, you brought out the best in John when you were there and after you left he’s become this empty shell of a man with no life left in his eyes….”

Sherlock stood up, angry and upset at the insensitive behavior. “Either you stop this conversation completely or you change the topic. The third option is that I leave the room or you do. But I don’t want to know about John, talk about him or discuss anything about him.”

“I understand your anger but please, ten minutes is all I ask. We wanted to….”

“Who the hell is ‘we’? You and who else?”

Greg was taken aback and quickly answered, “Mary, Mary Morstan Warwick. She and I have been in touch for three months, ever since she returned with her husband from Turkey. She told me quite a few things that made me realize you had always been innocent and the fault lay with John’s cousin Sebastian and his boyfriend Jim Moriarty. They were in this together and duped you and John.”

When Sherlock didn’t respond Greg added, “Even Gretel said a few things. She added some details basis her firsthand experience and they are startling facts. Since then Mary and I have been trying tooth and nail to contact you, only to be thwarted each time by your brother and father. You have changed your number, you live with your parents and brother now, so the only way was to meet you here or somewhere outside. We tried but we couldn’t find a way past your family members.”

“You’re moving in with one of them, aren’t you?” Sherlock snorted.

“I didn’t want to leverage my relationship with Mycroft to get to you,” Greg said, “That could have been an easy way to get to my goal, only it wasn’t the correct way. But when Myc told me he would be re-introducing me to you today, as his partner, a plan occurred to me. I thought why not arrive a little earlier and meet you in advance, talk to you before he comes back. That way I won’t be duping him or taking advantage of his relationship with me. Listen, Mary will talk to you too but for now I want to be her voice as well. We know you were as fooled and duped by Seb and Jim as John was. We realize whatever happened was the handiwork of those two, not in any way facilitated by you. We even found out that one of the retainers had changed the amount on the cheque as per Jim’s instructions.”

Hope flared in Sherlock’s heart. Maybe he would get exonerated of all the crimes he hadn’t committed but was still charged for. “You found that out?” He asked quietly.

“Gretel told us who did it and that man had been fired and given a warning.”

“Does John know?”

“Mary has spoken to him. Not sure what he thinks about it though.”

“What about the necklace, does he still think I removed the necklace and sold it through Jim in the open market?” Sherlock asked bitterly. The scenario played out again in his mind. The insults, the honor-injuring statements from John, the way he had been kicked out of there.

Greg gave him a kindly grin, “No, he can’t do that anymore. Guess why?”

“Tell me already. Not in the mood for guesses Grover.”

“Greg. Not Grover. Okay, so there was a chest in John’s mother’s room which he had asked you to get rid of, since he assumed it was filled with junk. You forgot to do that and kept it in the closet you shared with John. Some time ago John found that chest and it was filled with cash, loose jewels and deeds to a couple of properties that even John was not aware of. Apparently his mum wanted to give them to her daughter, John’s sister Harry, and the contents of the chest were worth nearly double the amount of the necklace. You had it all along and never even touched it. That sort of shows you aren’t a thief. Someone burgled the house and put the blame on you.”

For a moment Sherlock’s heart leapt in his chest. John was aware of his innocence, he was absolved of all the blame that had been hanging over his head like a dead goose. For months he had been stewing in his angst, wondering how and when he’d get rid of those charges, those accusations. He didn’t even want to try, he was too tired and wiped out from the experience of his fallout with John to step into that circle again. He knew it was a bit stupid of him to think this way but he was actually hoping for a miracle.

But now that the ‘miracle’ had happened, he felt drained. He didn’t feel like celebrating anymore. It felt like a hollow victory.

“Well, someday this had to happen, someone had to discover the truth,” he said with a shuddering exhale, stretching out his long legs and looking at Greg with a resigned expression, “Thank God it happened quickly and not many years later. But unfortunately, I have aged six decades in these six months and it feels like a story that happened long ago, a time that I no longer care about. I am done with this. Thanks for taking a huge weight off my shoulders but this no longer matters to me Grady. I promise you that…. As your brother in law, we will never mention that phase of our lives again. I won’t let it affect my rapport with you.”

“Sherlock no,” Greg said, not even correcting the error of his name, “I didn’t tell you all this to mend fences with you. I know you’d have done that anyways, for Myc’s sake. This is because I wanted you to know….”

“I know now. The point is, what do you want me to do?”

“Me? What I want you to do? Don’t you want to do it yourself?”

“Do what?”

“Talk to John, fix it with him, so you two could be together again.”

Sherlock let out a barking laughter that was very similar to the one John had let out on the day he had a showdown with Sherlock in his study. A dark, derisive, devilish laughter that showed he was a bit on the unbalanced side. Greg repeated his words, “Sherlock, you two could be together once again.”

“I heard you the first time,” Sherlock said, “But that ship has sailed. I don’t want to….”

“Please, if you love him….”

“Love doesn’t work all the time. Sometimes it isn’t even enough…. Do you have any idea what I went through? What my family went through all because of me?!”

“Do you know what John went through? You don’t know his side of the story. Let me tell you bits and pieces of it, at least. After you left he had a nervous breakdown, an attack of anxiety that got him straight to the hospital for a whole week. After that he was in rehab for a month but he ran away from it and attempted suicide. Back in the hospital for a fortnight and then he was committed.”

Sherlock’s hands were shaking already. “Committed?” He gasped.

“Yes. He got out of that only a month ago. After that he’s been locked up in his bedroom. He hasn’t emerged from it, not even for a moment. Even his sister hasn’t been able to get through to him. We are all very afraid he might give up one day. We might have to break in and what we’d discover might not be very pleasing to the eye….. in fact, it could be all over,” Greg paused and shrugged, getting up and walking a few paces towards the window, “Sherlock please, if you’ve been in therapy and he’s attempted to take his own life and then locked himself up in his room for days, shunning company and a normal life…. What do you think that means my friend? You both love each other, enough to almost destroy yourselves when you were driven apart. Then at least try one last time. See if you can get through to him….. Sherlock?”

Sherlock was already at the door, “I need your car. I haven’t bought one of my own yet and I don’t want to take any of the family cars. They won’t agree with what I’m about to do so it’s only fair that I……”

“I understand,” Greg smiled, “Take my car. And buy a new one after selling that scrapheap of yours.”

“Will you buy it?” Sherlock snickered.

There was already a spring in his step and sparkle in his eyes that Greg remembered from many months ago, when he had first met this young man. He was delighted to see those signs of life and love back again. Sherlock was too young and too nice a man to ruin his life because of a couple of mistakes. If anyone deserved to be punished it had to be the sinner, Jim and Sebastian, not Sherlock. He was naïve and somewhat immature, not an opportunistic bastard.

“Mary is there,” he called out, “So is Harry and her partner. You have support there and the security personnel have been told to let you in. So there won’t be any problems.”

“Thanks for doing the groundwork and setting the stage. I am wondering, you really were confident you’ll pull this off and I will agree to go and see John right away, didn’t you?”

“Confident? I was absolutely sure. Now go along and drive safe.”

“Thanks Greg.”

Greg stared after him fondly and murmured, _“He finally called me Greg.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. After my medical leave I got back to work and was immediately assaulted by deadlines and buried under tasks. Will try to be more regular with my updates from now on.


	21. The real John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He heard John call out, in the same defeatist tone. “I have more bottles. You can’t save me. You’re not even real.”

Eckhart the butler and Elizabeth Smallwood didn’t seem too happy to see him. Clearly they had their own views about whatever went on between John and Sherlock, but the others were not only welcoming but also delighted by his arrival. Harriet introduced herself and also her partner, Gretel gave him a big hug and Mary quickly took him aside and filled him in on all the details that he needed to know.

“John know who you are, that you aren’t starving and greedy for his money,” she whispered, “He knows you never spent any huge amount in all these months. So clearly that money was taken by Jim and it was he who eventually used those funds, not you. Just letting you know, if that helps you in your conversation with him. You have nothing to worry about, there is no proof whatsoever that you have swindled him or cheated on him.”

Sherlock nodded, quite grateful for that information and already making up some strategy in his head about how he’d tackle the conversation with John. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. While his love for John had never died, too much water had flown under the bridge and he knew the initial interactions might get angsty, stilted or counter-productive. Having a plan would certainly help. He was in no mood to take any shit anymore, not after his innocence had been proved and the real culprits were out in the open. He very much wanted to know what actions, legal or otherwise, John had taken against his own cousin, or was his ire and sense of judgment only reserved for non-family members?!?

But the moment he entered the bedroom suite, one which had once been his home and the source of all his dreams, every other thought flew out of his mind. All that he could think of was John’s wellbeing and rescuing him from the condition he had subjected himself to.

He looked like a drifter. A thick beard, long shaggy mane, a face that was paler than the sheets around him and eyes that were haunted and bordering on the ‘crazy’, he sat on the bed with a bottle of whiskey in his arms, half-finished, and he drank straight from the bottle. All the drapes were shut, there were no lights on, the room was dark and dingy and had a stuffy smell. The smell of alcohol and sweat hung in the air and what was that…..

Weed! John had been smoking weed.

_Oh God! And here I thought I had been the one suffering after the breakup. He suffered more by throwing me out and breaking off all contacts with me. He treated himself far worse than he treated me. I see the scar on his wrist, damn, he had cut the veins side to side, it must have been a touch and go situation!_

John didn’t even hear him when he entered the anteroom.

“Jawn?”

“Hmmm?”

At least he didn’t ask me to fuck off or throw something at my head. But he didn’t even look at me either. Maybe he doesn’t remember how I sounded. Probably he had forgotten my voice during these tumultuous months. “Jawn…. hi, um…. it’s me, I’m Sherlock, Sherl.”

“Hey, you’re here. I was wondering why it took you so long…..” John murmured in a voice Sherlock could barely recognize. It was harsh but croaky, the tone dull and flat, it sounded like a panhandler groaning in an alley than a suave, good looking and educated gentleman who could wow and charm people with just a glance and a sentence. _What has he done to himself, he seems to have degenerated into some depressed, disheveled dopey creature and not the John I knew. There’s not even a shred of John left in him._ Sherlock gasped as he walked closer to the bed, tentative footsteps that didn’t falter but stayed on the cautious side. “You-You knew that I was about to come and see…. visit you today?” He asked, unsure of what John meant by that surprising opening statement.

“You visit me every day, sometimes even at night, if I am lucky….” came the subdued statement. John broke out into a coughing fit at the end of it, wheezing slightly as he grabbed an inhaler and puffed a couple of sprays into his mouth. Then he took some forceful and long breaths, trying to calm himself.

“Everyday…. Night?”

“I know, I know, I dream… these are all dreams. They think I am crazy.”

“Jawn _, I am really here.”_

“Yes, yes you are. You will keep haunting me till the end of my days. I paid those guys to let me go from the institute. I want to die at home, just like my nana. It’s not too much to ask for, isn’t it? Will you cry for me then Sherlock? Will the real Sherlock cry for me or will he be happy?”

Sherlock’s heart broke at the mellow tone and grief that showed on the older man’s face. He had aged a decade during the past few months, literally. Once again the young man was convinced that, between the two of them, John had taken their split far harder on himself. His earlier anger and grievances melted away, leaving him repentant. He had never thought about John and how he had been doing. He hadn’t even checked, not even once. 

“You are NOT going to die, not for another forty or fifty years,” Sherlock said forcefully and strode right up to the bed. When John tried to drink from the bottle Sherlock snatched it away from him and emptied the contents in the sink in the bathroom.

He heard John call out, in the same defeatist tone. “I have more bottles. You can’t save me. You’re not even real.”

Sherlock promptly returned to the bedroom, tossed the empty bottle into the waste box and scowled at John, “Of course I am real you self-destructive moron. For God’s sake, get out of the haze of weed and booze and touch me. If I was a dream I would have disappeared by now. Come on, come closer and touch my hand if you have the balls to do so. TOUCH!!”

John’s hands were shaking, his fingers trembling. He tentatively reached out and touched Sherlock’s hand. But then he withdrew as if he had touched fire. “Please, don’t give me false hope. You’re not back. Why would you be? I don’t deserve you. I deserve to suffer and die….”

That was all the hopelessness and self-pity Sherlock could take, he could take no more of that shit. He had suffered too and risen above his situation, no matter how much he killed his inner soul to get there. John’s chronic tendencies of blowing things out of proportion and turning everything into some pity-fest had tested his nerves enough and he didn’t want that to be stretched any further than this. He lifted his hand and punched John on the jaw, light enough to not cause any harm or serious pain but hard enough to jolt the five senses out of him. John yelped and fell off the bed with a thump, then his face emerged from the other side of the bed eyes wide as anything, a look of true realization blossoming on his unkempt face.

“Baby boy…..”

“Yeah. Thank God you’ve some active grey cells left.”

“I…. but…. How?”

“That’s your problem. You always question your fortunes and believe in your misfortunes. You are a true moron, a privileged man who feels he’s the only one who’s taken a beating in this world. There are many people who have to work hard just to pay the bills. Since you have no financial worries, no bills to pay and no mortgages to complete, you invent miseries to keep your masochistic side happy. You are a real idiot, a selfish and blindsided idiot who never tries to become a better man despite having all the abilities to be so.”

John stood up on shaky legs. He was smiling a little.

“You look like a rag that the cat dragged in and abandoned,” Sherlock ranted, “You have scared the living daylights out of your sister and caused a divide in your household by never coming clean to them. I bet you didn’t even grieve your grandmother properly.”

“You really are here! You punched me.”

“Yes and I will punch you again if you dare to act like a loser once more.”

“I always thought you were real but you weren’t. Today I was sure you’re just a dream, a hallucination, and you suddenly just…. C’mon hit me again, at least touch me that way, slap me or punch me if you will.”

Sherlock grabbed John and shook him hard, feeling the rattle of his bones and clattering of his teeth due to the force he used. A new life-force seemed to awaken in him and that transferred right on to John whose eyes glowed with life again. Only a few minutes ago it was a classic case of a ‘The lights are on but nobody is home’. Now John seemed to be back.

“Thanks,” the older man said, grabbing Sherlock back, “You could have punched me a few more times, God knows I deserve that…..”

“No, no, no,” Sherlock hugged John who clung back to him for dear life, the blond man kissing the side of his face and his long neck in desperation and delight, “I love you Jawn, I love you, I forgive you. I did wrong you, whether it was out of stupidity or naïveté or not, but the result was sheer grief and disaster for you, I acknowledge that. I am responsible for that. But I do wish you had given me a chance to explain. You pushed me away at a time you needed me the most, ironically. I missed you, I missed you so much, time and again I thought of contacting you but then I never got around doing that….”

“Why didn’t you baby?” John asked.

“I was not sure if you wanted to hear from me.”

“Yeah. I can’t blame you for that. I did try though.”

“My family blocked you.”

“Mycroft perhaps could kill me with his bare hands and I must admit his threats were not empty ones. He not only resigned from his job but also sent me a legal notice, for trying to get around my grandmother’s will by faking a contract marriage. But he didn’t sue me eventually, I guess he was just very upset about the way I had treated you. Even Greg fell out with me, he told me I had pulled him into a mistake, a grave mistake, and he should have heard your side of the story too.”

Sherlock led John towards the bathroom, feeling like the one in charge for a change. Many times John had soothed and loved him after nightmares and other upsetting incidents, several times John had taken care of his needs when he was, well, a little needy or lazy.

_Time for payback._

“Forget all that now, let’s put it behind us,” he said, making up his mind once and for all, “I think both of us have a lot to forgive and forget, we must forgive each other as well as forgive ourselves. We have to forget those darker sides of the days we spent together….”

“And let the sun shine?” John asked hopefully.

“Yeah and this time around the dark clouds won’t prevent us from waiting for the sun to shine once again.”

“Or stop us from taking the clouds in our stride and believe that the sun is never truly gone. There’s always a new day and a new sunrise. Isn’t it? You won’t leave this time Sherl, would you? Can I ask for this as a Christmas present?”

Sherlock nodded and tried to kiss John but the man pulled back abruptly, gently putting his hands on Sherlock’s chest to keep him at an arm’s length. When Sherlock gave him a startled look he whispered, “Don’t get me wrong baby. I really want to kiss you but I don’t feel very good doing that when…. When I am like this, a drifter, dirty and smelly and haggard.” He saw how Sherlock began to protest that and stopped him with a finger on those bow shape lips, “Nah, don’t even try to lie to me. I can see myself in the mirror over there. I look horrible, I could be a stand-in for Jack the Ripper in some film, Mr. Hyde in that novel or some monster in a cartoon series.”

“As always, your imagination runs wild,” Sherlock huffed, “But I respect your wishes. Would you like me to help you clean up?”

“By all means, please!”

“Are you drunk still?”

“Nope. My resilience to alcohol is become such that…. I don’t really get drunk easily.”

“In that case, you need to sleep off the booze and weed. But first things first, a nice hot shower, a shave and then something to eat.”

***

It took Sherlock about two hours to get John back in shape.

First he let him soak in a hot bath, then scrubbed him clean. Finally he cut his hair and gave him a shave. John brushed his teeth twice and gargled once with some minty fluid to get rid of any foul or alcohol laced breath, if any.

The haircut wasn’t the best and Sherlock felt John looked like a hobbit but he chose not to comment on it. It could be given a better shape later but for now this would have to do. He didn’t fancy looking at John that way, with shoulder length hair and split ends. The shave did wonders though, as did the bath, and when John got into clean PJs and sat on the bed, he looked almost like his former self. Maybe thinner and a gaunt face, bags under his eyes, but still fairly similar to what he used to be.

Harriet and Mary were very happy about the progress Sherlock had made with John, that too in a matter of two odd hours, while Mycroft was quite annoyed that Sherlock had chosen to go back to the ‘Idiotus Billionaire’. After a brief conversation the elder sibling calmed down somewhat and agreed that it was Sherlock’s own life and therefore his choice to play with it. But if he got into trouble again Mycroft wouldn’t be around to make things better this time.

Sherlock assured him nothing like that would happen this time and he had it all under control. He would be back before Christmas, maybe on Christmas Eve.

When he got back into the room he found that John had quickly gone through his mails for the past month and answered all the urgent ones. But the moment he saw Sherlock he grabbed the youngster and pulled him down on the bed, kissing him deep and lovingly on his mouth. Sherlock willingly and willfully surrendered, threading his fingers through John’s hairs as he returned the kiss with all his pent-up passion. His erection pressed up against John’s abs and John’s erection rubbed against his thigh, showing how aroused they were, their wet kiss only adding fuel to the fiery needs that coursed through them. Still, as Sherlock grabbed John’s hand and guided it between his legs, he sensed the hesitation in that touch. Unwilling to back off, Sherlock reached behind John and grabbed his hung balls, cupping the testicles in his palms, rolling them and giving them a good squeeze.

“Ahhhh,” John broke free from the kiss and raise and bowed his head backwards, eyes glazed over with desire and big with the pleasant shock of the sensations.

“I need to….”

“Me too baby but…. I don’t suppose I can do the full thing tonight.”

“I-I understand that but can we at least…?”

  
“Yes, of course, we can do that. C’mere, lie down next to me!!!”

In less than a minute they were wrapped up together, limbs coiled, mouths mashed against each other, their hands thrust into each other’s bottomwear. While John jerked him off with long, luxuriant stroke and frequent rubbing of his thumb over the slit, Sherlock used both hands to pleasure John. He used his right hand only around the mushroom head while with the left one he kept playing with his balls.

Every time a moan came up, they swallowed it down. Their knees knocked, their ankles and feet tangled and the smell of sex rose in the air.

“Ohhhnnnn,” Sherlock scrunched his eyes shut, grimacing beautifully with the need to cum, “Oh yeah, don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” John swore, thrusting into Sherlock’s fist as he felt his balls tighten, “Faster now baby.”

Sherlock moaned out loud, arching his back and throwing a leg over John. John in turn gripped his shoulder and sucked a bruise on the marble like skin of his long neck. He had missed ruining inches of the most perfect skin with his teeth and tongue.

The moment of ecstasy came only a little later, their long unheeded needs coming to a boiling point in a matter of seconds. They trembled with a much awaited and thunderous release, coating each other’s hands with thick cum as their mouths joining back together again. 

They panted and moaned and whimpered for the longest time, arms still around each other and the semen cooling on their hands. Neither man wanted to move at present, not even when they heard knocks on the door and Gretel announcing that she had brought some dinner for the two of them. “She will smell and sense everything,” John said with a sleepy smile, “I guess we better get the trolley from the doorway.” Sherlock was reluctant to get out of bed but he knew John was even more exhausted than him and slowly crawled out of his lover’s arms and swung his long legs over the side. “Very well old man,” he teased, “Stay put here while I do all the hard work for ya!”

He was only teasing but it did have an effect on John who gave him an immediate response. The smack on his rump made Sherlock yelp and he turned to look at the older man who was fetching some tissues from a box in the nightstand drawer. When he heard his lover say something like ‘wait until I feel a bit more rested, a little more human and then you’ll pass out after your sixth time’, he knew he would love nothing more in this world than a punishment like that.

“Promise?” Sherlock asked eagerly.

John’s mock offended look turned into one of affection, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Dinner had been made per Sherlock’s specifications. He had seen enough addiction and stress to know what was needed when someone had been going without food and living off booze for several days. John needed grease in his system, he needs grains and he needed plenty of fluids. Warmed fresh bread rolls, seasoned virgin olive oil, bacon and poached halibut with assorted, chopped buttered vegetables, loads of watermelon juice, fresh still water and some nice hot ginger tea.

John didn’t eat much but whatever little food he ate, at least he kept it down. Sherlock are heartily. He was starving. He hadn’t eaten anything since a very frugal breakfast that morning.

Later, as they lay in bed together, John apologized to him once again. “I am sorry, I don’t think I will be of any further use to you tonight.”

“That’s okay,” Sherlock murmured, already half asleep, “I’m just glad I’m cuddling the real John, not pillow John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and this should be done. Thanks for being with me during this journey. I have tried my best to give the boys a happy end eventually. Hell, I know this probably took way more time than I usually take to finish a story but I still hope you enjoyed the series! Cheers!


	22. Into the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the boys find their slice of happy earth!
> 
> (The story is now complete - Please see notes first)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After several years of wonderful experiences and meeting awesome people on AO3, reading fantastic fics and sharing ideas and thoughts, I have recently faced some really annoying comments from some cheapskates. Honestly, none of us like all authors or all genres, sometimes not even all the stories of an author we sort of prefer, but I don't suppose that gives us the right to leave hurtful, insulting comments for them. We don't make any money off this, neither are we aiming for some literary prize. I am aware I am not perfect and neither are my plots. But I am done writing my ass off and posting for other people's entertainment, only to have them come back with snide remarks in the garb of anonymity. I know 90% of you are genuine, good, kind people and it's a pleasure interacting with you but a handful of rotten small minded people have forced me to turn off comments on my stories. I shall reopen them when I feel like. I won't stop posting. Not going to give them power over me. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this series and also this rant. You may not agree with all or most of it, but this is how I feel. Just letting you know why I, like several authors before me, chose to take off the comments option. 
> 
> Be good, be kind, be happy

Sherlock had slept fitfully that night despite being dog-tired and mentally exhausted. He had woken up every hour with a start, blindly searching for John and heaving a sigh of relief only when he found himself very much in the safety net and warmth of John’s arms and body. He would listen to the sounds of his man breathing, put his head back on John’s chest and hear the steady beat of his heart and fall asleep, only to jolt awake less than an hour later.

When he woke up for the sixth time in six hours, he saw John was awake too and clearly in discomfort. When he sat up in alarm, the older man grabbed his arm and said, “Don’t worry. It’s just my own body rebelling the lack of alcohol which I have been providing it liberally with, over the past two weeks. But it’s not so bad that I need rehab. We can manage, together, if you’re with me.”

When Sherlock nodded, John asked him to get him some aspirins and two tall glasses of cold water. He swallowed the pills and spent about half an hour, taking small sips of the cool water until he had drained both glasses. “Get me a powder from the first aid shelf, behind the bathroom mirror,” he said, wiping his lips, “It’s ayurvedic. I had been given that pouch by a good friend of mine but never touched it. Now it’s time!” Sherlock quickly fetched it for him and after swallowing two teaspoonfuls of it, John lay back down and wrapped his arms around Sherlock. In a low murmur he explained what the powder contained and how it acted like a good detoxifying agent.

Listening to that familiar, soothing voice and snuggled in that familiar embrace, Sherlock fell asleep quickly and deeply.

The next time he woke up four hours had passed and it was already a quarter past ten. John looked peacefully asleep so Sherlock decided to let him get as much rest as he needed. He’d rather leave the bed and step out of the room instead of making John uncomfortable with shifting, turning and sounds of doors and drawers opening and closing.

When he emerged from the room, showered and in fresh clothes (he noticed that John had kept all the items he had left behind when he’d hurriedly packed and left half a year ago), the first face he ran into was Mary Morstan Warwick.

“Mrs. Warwick!”

“Mr. Bou…. Sorry Greg told me it’s Mr. Holmes.”

“Yeah, so it is.”

“I wanted to say a big ‘thanks’ to you. Instead of your ego and your own need for an apology, you chose to value John and his wellbeing. I was afraid you’d refuse to come and John would drink himself to death, literally.”

Sherlock laughed, “He did look like a dead man when I stepped into that room last evening. He was babbling nonsense and hallucinating, he seemed totally lost, almost similar to a drowning man who didn’t even want to find a lifeboat or a log to hold on to.”

“You bet,” Mary said, taking a cigarette from Sherlock and lighting it, “Suicidal tendencies run in the family and after what happened with his mum many years ago, Harry and I were pretty scared of a repeat. We knew only one person could save him and thank God you returned.”

“I want you to do something for me Mary,” Sherlock said in a cheerful tone, happier than he had been in a long, long time, “I need your help, for John’s sake. It’s Christmas time and I want this entire estate to look festive and cheery, all decked up and colorful, the snow-covered landscape to come alive in lights once darkness falls. Can you deploy a team who can decorate the house and the entire property in lights, trees, ornaments, décor of all kinds?! I want it to look like fairyland. Also, once John goes in for a bath I want at least three retainers to work in his bedroom suite and clean it up, air it, put fresh flowers and linen and make it look livable again. Right now it’s a complete mess and suffocating. No one can be there for too long and not start to feel sick or claustrophobic. Can you take care of these two things please?”

“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation.

“Thanks a million.”

After a brief chat with Harry and her partner and Eckhart offering his apologies for misunderstanding him, Sherlock returned to the bedroom around noon to find John waking up again. This time he asked for coffee and after a hot mug of strong black brew he went for a shower and a proper shampoo and conditioning. His hair felt like straw, he said.

During this time the retainers worked their magic and when John stepped back out, the fluffy towel around his hips nearly dropped as he jumped in astonishment. He breathed in a cold but fresh air and took a good look around the room, admiring the quick fix from Sherlock. “Sherl…. Why this is so…. I feel like I am alive again. What as I living in all this while?”

“In a drug den, a filthy pit, a mole-hole!”

John grinned, “Well said and well corrected. This feels like our old bedroom and I feel like my old self once again. I couldn’t have asked for something better than this, a clean, airy room with freshly laundered sheets and the whiff of flowers. Well, well, well, something is going on around the house isn’t it? What have you been up to baby?”

“It’s Christmas,” Sherlock grinned, “The people working and living here deserve to celebrate. Your sulking and brooding has literally ruined the festival for them so I deployed some last moment rescue measures.”

The look of gratitude in John’s eyes spoke volumes more than any words could. Sherlock felt emotional. Suddenly things were looking up again and he felt both happiness and fear at the same time. What if things went downhill once more? What if John and he had a misunderstanding again??

John seemed to read his mind and whispered with quiet assurance, “We won’t have a fallout Sherl. I promise. Let me eat some breakfast, take another dosage of that miracle powder and then we will talk at length about some decisions I have taken while I showered.”

***

“As I have always maintained my darling,” John said as soon as he had finished a breakfast of starchy pasta with a dollop of homemade tangy tomato and mushroom sauce, “I feel I have a disproportionate amount of wealth and those zeroes in my bank account have never made me happy. If anything, they have only made me a very horrible person in some way, selfish and self-centered. I realized that the only reason you got planted here was because I tried to cheat on my grandmother’s will and create a fake marriage to please her. Why? Just so she would give me her two-thirds share. Shameful.”

“It’s over Jawn,” Sherlock insisted, not wishing for his man to take that trip to self-loathing and back once more, “Those days are behind us.”

“Yes but there is a lot of fixing we need to do,” John said in a determined voice, “ _That I need to do._ I have made six decision points, which I want to share with you and take your opinion on! First, I am going to ask the government to give me an official space where we can display the art and paintings my family owns. While the government will maintain the security and maintenance of the space, the money made from tourist visits and entry fees paid by locals will be donated to an organization that supports budding artists. I will retain ownership over the artifacts but won’t make any money off them.”

“Makes sense, that’s brilliant,” Sherlock agreed.

“From my investments, shares, deposits, companies and business ventures, properties and real estate, we earn roughly half a billion a year. So far only one third of it used to go to charities I patronized. Now I shall give them half of what we make, the other half will be used for maintenance of the properties and paying the retainers and stuff. I will limit my personal funds. I won’t be drawing much from the accounts, curtail expenses and become a little more frugal.”

“You can attempt that,” Sherlock answered honestly, “But that won’t be easy.”

“That’s why I need to do this. I have been choosing so many easy ways out of late.”

“Good! What else?”

“Third decision – I want to give you half my wealth. No, don’t get startled, this isn’t some way to woo you back but to give you enough to have your own standing in this world, in our family and amongst those who work for us. Even in a moment of madness if I ever ask them to throw you out, I want you to have equal rights and an equal voice to tell them to stand down, that you happen to be their employer too.”

“No, no, Jawn this is way too much and this doesn’t even make sense,” Sherlock felt uneasy. He didn’t want to be accused as a gold-digger after getting exonerated from ‘swindling’ charges.

“That’s why I am doing this,” John explained, his look and stance almost non-negotiable, “So no one ever dares to call you a ‘swindler’ or a ‘gold digger’. You will have as much as I do and that means there’s no need for you to take anything from me, aside from my love for you as a partner and friend. Alright, then comes the next decision and that should make you happy. I have decided to give everything that was in mum’s name, amounting to almost nine hundred million, to Harry. She deserves it. She will be reluctant to take anything that belonged to dad or me or dad’s side of the family but anything that was mum’s can naturally pass on to her. That includes the chest you kept in the closet.”

Sherlock smiled. After a long time he felt genuine gladness in his heart. Harry was a good woman. She deserved it, just as John mentioned.

“I see this pleases you more than the last decision.”

“I know it’s hard for you to believe this but I don’t have an insatiable greed for money and luxuries. I needed money, yeah, but that was a limited amount, that too as an initial investment for my own startup company. Now of course I have a job.”

“Why would you do a job? With your new financial position you can fund startups and have a dozen of them of your own!”

Sherlock shook his head, “No Jawn. I need to do this on my own and money is only one of the many criteria. Where I work, I am not just earning a salary but also picking up lots of lessons on client handling, project management, profit and loss bookkeeping, handling a task force, doing quality evaluations. These will eventually help me with my own startup. So, for the next three to four years I will be an employee. Then I’ll be good enough to become an employer.”

John appeared quite satisfied with the answer. Sherlock soon understood why.

“I guess your work ethic is something I need to learn from,” the older man said, “Because my final decision has something to do with my work, as a surgeon. So, I intend to work as a surgeon for the rest of my life. I have trustworthy people like Mary, Mike, Greg and Mycroft to look after my assets, investments and contracts. The money will keep growing, the charities will continue to prosper and John Watson will have no role to play in this aside from a monthly check of the accounts and other papers.”

“Really?” You are going back to work?”

“To academics first Sherl. I need to start studying. It will be interesting since I haven’t picked up any book for pure academic interests in the last eight years. I hope I haven’t lost my touch nor my ability to build on my knowledge and skills.”

***

John was mighty pleased that evening with the results of the ‘Christmas’ décor on the estate. Mary and Harry had spared no expenses no ideas in making the whole three square mile property look dazzling! They had decked her up, every corner and angle and stretch, like a princess on her wedding day! From natural outdoors Christmas trees to fake indoor plants in every other room, lit-up porches with logwood and lantern decorations, reindeer cut outs and elf figurines, sleds and socks and streamers, everything was colorful, aesthetic and very elegantly done up.

“Feels like Christmas, feels like home,” Elizabeth Smallwood announced as the lights came on that evening. She also forgave Sherlock for not ‘coming back’ sooner and acknowledged the mistakes John made, thereby burying the hatchet with the young man.

In the evening all the workers in the meat and dairy factories, the ranch hands, retainers, got together for a noisy, booze-filled party. On Sherlock’s insistence John attended for an hour and half but stayed away from the liquor. Around nine pm the blonde grabbed the brunette’s hand and whispered in a thick, hoarse voice, “I need you, now. Come on, let’s go back to the house while everyone else is here and having a good time. I don’t suppose anyone would even notice we are gone!”

“Honestly,” Sherlock was already half hard by then, “I don’t even care if they do.”

***

Sherlock went into a sex coma that night. He had finally passed out around 11 am, completely wiped out from several rounds of lovemaking, and naturally didn’t have dinner. With all the physical exercise and several draining orgasms and no meal to supplement his strength, naturally his empty stomach started to growl and protest vehemently sometime around dawn.

That translated into a funny dream he saw, one which made no sense whatsoever.

He saw himself standing before a house made of various kinds of food items. For walls there were biscuits and cakes, for windows there was candy and wafers, for the door he saw slabs of chocolates and the chimney was a big mug of cocoa with fumes coming out of it. The fence around this pretty (and tempting) cottage was made of peppermint and marzipan and the garden had flowers, tress and pots shaped like various cuts of meat and grass and hedges shaped like the vegetables he liked. But the moment he tried to reach out and grab hold of an orange and a tomato, he saw Mycroft emerge from the cottage dressed as ‘Wizard of Oz’. He took the fruits away from Sherlock and delivered the famous line.

“You have plenty of courage, I am sure.”

“Hey you want an apple?”

The squeaky voice was Jim’s and Sherlock saw him as a deceptively lovely and cute rabbit but the moment he tried to grab the apple the rabbit ran away. Sherlock chased after it and almost fell into a rabbit hole when someone grabbed him and pulled him back, sending him reeling backwards so he landed on his arse on the grassy lawn.

“What the…..” he began when a Persian cat appeared, only his face was that of John’s. He was also wearing a doctor’s coat, had a stethoscope around his neck and was holding a forceps and a scalpel in his paws. “You should be thanking me pretty human,” said John in his own voice, “I just saved you from entering USA without a proper visa and work permit.”

Before Sherlock could actually say something to ‘John the cat’, he saw another funny character. First he heard her voice, the sanctimonious tone easily identifiable. “Witless human, witless human,” someone chimed.

Elizabeth Smallwood, as a woodpecker, cawing from the branch of a tree. “Sherlock!”

“I thought we had made up.”

“Sherlock what are you doing?”

“I will come up and grab you, I will pluck your feathers old coot…..”

“SHERLOCK WAKE UP!!!”

THUMP…… “Ouch,” Sherlock winced and looked around, finding himself on something hard and fluffy. The woodpecker, a.k.a. Elizabeth Smallwood had thrown him off the tree and he had landed on the grass beneath.

Then he realized he was in the bedroom, but not on the bed. The hard ground beneath him was marble, not the earth and the soft cushion was that of a thick rug and not the grassy lawns. Of course there was no food anywhere nor was the mischievous Jim rabbit or Oz Mycroft. John had become human and had a human body right now and was laughing hard at him. Affronted and bewildered, embarrassed as well, he sat up and looked around. Everything else seemed normal. Okay, so it was a dream, a hilarious and impossible dream with Alice in Wonderland characters and the Hansel and Gretel ‘eatable’ house. “What’s so funny?” He asked John, offended at the way he was being laughed at.

“Ohhhh…. You are hungry, aren’t you?”

“H-How did you know?”

“Aside from the fierce growls from your stomach? You bit into my arm, thinking it was something edible, then you tried to uncork me at the neck, as if I was some bottle of beverage, murmured something about an apple and a confounded woodpecker, then you fell over the edge even as I tried to wake you up and get you back into the land of the living. Gosh, I wish I could have recorded all that because it was too funny, too hilarious to be described in words!!!”

“Ohh…” Sherlock blushed beetroot red.

John pulled him back up on the bed, “Don’t worry, even I am hungry as a wolf. I just asked for some food and some coffee and tea to be sent up. It’s seven am, a bit too early for us but I suppose we can make an exception for today. We really do need to eat.”

As if on cue both their stomach’s growled.

They started chuckling.

“I saw this hilarious dream,” Sherlock said and began to describe it. John laughed along and seemed to be in good spirits until he mentioned Jim. At that point the older man became fairly serious and soon a prominent scowl appeared on his face. “What happened?” Sherlock asked, not sure if he had said something wrong, “You suddenly became sullen and angry. Something I said just now?”

“No,” John wrapped an arm around him and covered their nakedness with the thick, snowy blankets, “Nothing you can say or do will ever make me angry again. This was weighing on my mind for a long time and I just got reminded of it.”

“Reminded of what?”

“Jim and Sebastian.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything, either in defense or offense. Truth was that this point had been scratching and nagging at the corners of his mind for a long time but after his reunion with John he had been so happy it had slipped from his mind over the past two day. He had been able to forgive Jim but unable to forgive himself for being so gullible and silly. How on earth had he accepted a highly-sexed man like Jim was okay with them not fucking for two whole years. _I was being basted and marinated like a turkey, to be roasted and consumed when the time was ripe and right._ Still, it had been hard to reconcile himself with the slap of defeat and deceit and his inability to preempt it and take necessary and suitable precautions.

“What about them?” He asked when John didn’t say anything at all for a full minute.

“Should I just let them go?” John seemed annoyed, irritated and a bit vengeful.

“What do you propose you’d do to them Jawn? Our biggest mistake was that we thought the whole world thinks and behaves like us, that since we are not evil other people lack the capacity of being evil. We learned our lessons the hard way. They are very dangerous criminals and, unlike us, always prepared to take on any adversary. I am not too sure they have more tea on us or not and if they will turn out all efforts, conspiracies and weapons to get back at us if we poke at their nest.”

John exhaled, “I am not a coward really.”

“Me neither.”

“But we must choose our battles.”

“Precisely. We have more to lose than they do.”

“A hundred and sixty million Jim took, using you and the information you shared innocently with him. Then Sebastian happily lapped up another seventy five million from me, in the form of casino shares and a luxury penthouse of 6000 square feet. I feel bloody robbed and looted.”

“Myc was saying there are no legal ways of implicating them and since they are in USA now, about to get their green card thanks to some strings Sebastian pulled, we are even more at a disadvantage in terms of taking actions.”

John remained quiet for the longest time before he nodded near imperceptibly and whispered, “Karma will get to them long before they have finished their journey. You are right, I won’t be the one to stir a hornet’s nest. It’s not worth our effort and the risks it involves.”

“I’d do one thing though, in addition to two steps I have already taken, I’ll take out restraining orders against them,” John added as Sherlock luxuriantly stretched out on top of him like a second layer of blanket, “I have legally disowned Sebastian as a cousin and relative, depriving him from any claims whatsoever in the future. I have also changed lockers, pass codes and every other security details and physical location of assets that they could try and steal.”

“That’s great,” Sherlock winked, “I have done something too. I put some information to Mi6 and FBI, putting Jim Moriarty as a suspect in possible terrorism and extortion cases, if not directly then as a shadowy figure lurking and working in the background.”

“My clever little cookie,” John giggled and they kissed again, irrespective of their growling stomachs the first attention was given to the morning wood that each man was sporting down below. Sherlock began to hump John and John had just started to thrust up, bringing their straining erections delectable friction by constant rubbing and frottage, when the door opened and in walked Mary with a trolley heaped with various food items. She gasped, screamed and turned around, then scuttled out like a frightened rabbit without even a backwards glance. Before the door closed she called out ‘Next time lock the door you shameless insatiable men’.

A guffawing John called back, ‘Next time knock before entering you mindless woman’. 

Sherlock had gone under the covers, red as a tomato, stricken with embarrassment. When John kept laughing he poked his head out from the covers and snarled, “What’s so funny? She probably saw us partially naked and moving…. That is mortifying? Jeez! Don’t you feel…..?”

“Sherlock,” John pulled him out of the covers and sat up, “Listen, I forgot something important. Your parents, Mycroft, what do they think about you spending Christmas here with me? They must have expected you home on the special day, right?”

Sherlock nodded, “Yeah and I think we should be there on Christmas morning.”

“We???”

“You don’t want to meet my folks?”

John rolled his eyes, “What a thing to ask! Of course I do. But I am not sure they’d want to see me on Christmas or anytime soon. They must be very upset with me and the way I had treated you. Mycroft to this date does not talk to me or take my calls. He works with Mike Stamford and that too after a written apology from me and a generous dose of emotions, recalling how close our fathers used to be in their lifetime.”

“Then why not tomorrow? On Christmas morning?”

“You think we could do that?”

Sherlock spoke with more confidence than he felt inside. “Absolutely we could. I know my mummy is on my side and she can convince daddy and Myc. She is the one who helped me talk to Greg and come over here, clear the air and reconcile with you. I will speak with her today so I can take her counsel on this. If she says it’s too soon then I will go back tomorrow morning John. Please don’t mind me doing that.”

“Of course not,” John said, “You should be with your family tomorrow. Hopefully next year even I will be part of the celebrations, the grand Christmas lunch and all that. Now, let’s celebrate Christmas a day early on my estate. I’ll ask my cook to prepare a grand Christmas Eve dinner feast.”

***

As the estate and its inhabitants grew busy in organizing the feast and buying gifts, Mary’s husband joining the merriment too, and John went to an orphanage to distribute gifts and cake, Sherlock slipped away quietly and went to the greenhouse to make the phone call to his mummy. As soon as the call connected and her phone rang once, she immediately answered. “Lockie, I had been waiting for your call. What took you so long? Is everything okay there? What did John say? Is he talking to you again?”

“Um, sorry mummy, I should have called but I kinda got busy…. Yes, all is well and he wants to come over tomorrow morning.”

“Over to our place? Tomorrow, on Christmas day?” She asked, as if processing this information in her head rather than clarifying. He stayed silent, he knew she was good at handling people and tricky situations. Whatever needed to be done, she would come up with it promptly and accurately. After a few seconds of analyzing the situation she said, “Bring him over. I shall talk to your brother and father. To be honest with you, they just want to see you happy. Myc is a vastly changed man from his earlier, cold self. He’s got a partner too, so he knows. And if he agrees, so will Reginald.”

“You sure mummy?”

“Absolutely. If I find things aren’t proceeding the way I hoped, I shall text you in the next hour or so. That okay?”

“Yes, more than okay. Now let me tell you what happened since I came here and also some of the stuff Sebastian and Jim have done…..”

Later, after Sherlock had finished the phone call and was assisting with the final stages of preparing some mulled wine, John came back home with a huge smile on his face and a radiant, chirpy demeanor that suggested he was very happy.

“Time and money well spent babe,” he kissed Sherlock, much to Harry’s teasing that ‘these two should get a room already’, “The three hundred kids were so happy with their gifts, Christmas cake and turkeys I got for them. They’ll have a great Christmas lunch tomorrow. I also distributed some blankets, shoes and brandy to an old soldier’s home and spent time with them. They were happy just to have someone around to listen.”

“Spoke to mummy,” Sherlock shared his own good news, “I think we are all set for tomorrow. She seems very, very positive that there will be no problems and you will be received warmly and cordially.”

***

The feast was magnificent and the table groaned under the weight of Turducken, lobster, seabass, caviar, truffles, the best of cheeses and cold cuts, vol au vents, salads, pastas, steaks of the finest cuts and crepes. There was also champagne, whiskey, white and red wine and lots of mulled wine and eggnog to go with the food. Candles flickered everywhere, a private orchestra had been hired to play for them, guests showed up in all their finery and Sherlock was introduced to John’s limited circle of friends and associates, with much pride, joy and fanfare.

They danced the evening away and popped some bubbly every hour, raising a toast to various causes and people, laughter and banter and the clink of glasses and cutlery on fine china plates filled the huge mansion with cheer and life.

“Thanks for this Sherlock, I owe this joy and celebrations to you,” John said towards the end of the party, when the servers were wrapping up and the last of the guests had left, “After a long time there was some festive cheer in the house and a subsequent laughter packed party. Sings of life, delight and love than the usual angst and bitterness that festered within these walls.” A bit taken aback, Sherlock tilted his head and asked, “You’re thanking me for a party YOU threw? Why would you not take the credit for that? This was entirely your idea and the arrangements were done by our friends and retainers.”

“I have thanked them already,” John said, “I handed each one an envelope. Cash bonus for them, different amounts depending on who they are and how long they have worked for us but I can assure you the sums are quite generous. As for Mary and her hubby, Mike and his wife, Harry and her partner Lucy, Elizabeth, I have got some cool gifts for them. Diamonds for Mary, a car for her partner, a holiday on my yacht in Monaco for Mike and his wife, matching Louis Vuitton bags and luggage set for Harry and Lucy and a Birkin for Elizabeth.”

“I hope they will forgive me for not bringing gifts for them,” Sherlock mumbled.

“Rubbish,” John tipped the bridge of Sherlock’s nose, “We are one unit now. So those gifts are from both of us. There is no John without Sherlock now.”

“Or Sherlock without John!”

***

“Are we all set?”

Sherlock smiled fondly at John who seemed as nervous as a little boy on the first day at a new school. “Yes, you are more than ready and we are all set.”

“Still, I should check if I have everything,” John took three steps back as they stood on the porch of the Holmes mansion while a bemused security officer looked on from a distance, “Let me see, I have the pearls and Hermes purse for your mother, the Rolex for your dad, diamond cufflinks for Mycroft and a golden tie pin for Greg with his name inscribed in tiny diamonds embedded on it…. Hey, is this even enough? I mean, I should have got a bottle of Dom Perignon at least. Will they think you are about to marry a stingy miser who cuts corners…. Maybe we should go back, shop for some more stuff and return?”

“No, you are out of your mind, no.”

“Look, I have never done this before. I don’t even know if I am capable of it or not. I might mess it up for the two of us so perhaps it’s best if we go our own ways for today and tonight. You go in and spend Christmas with your family and I will go back to the estate and spend some time there, with my employees and extended family. Tomorrow you come back and we can plan a nice New Year getaway, okay?”

“Not okay,” Sherlock took his hand in his own, “I am not going in if you don’t. To be honest, none of these things come naturally to me either. I was petrified before I met you and despite all our closeness I was nervy as hell when I had to meet Rosalie. But I managed, right?”

A flicker of a smile came over John’s face when he heard the hidden message in his young lover’s words. “One must make an effort,” he murmured, “Anything can be managed, with the right effort.”

“Yeah, precisely. And remember, you have nothing to lose. If they don’t like you I will walk out with you, no hesitations.”

“Sherl…. I think you just gave me the best assurance ever.”

“Not to mention that whatever I said was a hypothetical situation, a sort of ‘what if’. This isn’t going to really happen though. The people in there intend to like you so their entire effort will be directed at making this work. So you really don’t have anything to be worried about. Just be yourself and that’s that!”

John took a deep breath, gave Sherlock a small nod and stepped aside as the latter unlocked the front door using the code. To their surprise, they found the Holmes couple right on the other side. John hesitated for the briefest moments before he stepped in, holding Sherlock’s hand. He let that go for a brief moment, bowed slightly and took Eugenia’s hand in his own. “Thanks for having me today Mrs. Holmes. Thank you Mr. Holmes and merry Christmas.”

“Thank you for coming John,” Reginald Holmes said in a surprisingly friendly tone, “And please do call us Eugenia and Reginald.”

***

**Epilogue**

“Congratulations Dr. Watson. Ooooh, I love how it sounds when I say it, DOCTOR Watson!!! How does it feel?”

Sherlock’s enthusiastic greeting was matched by John who took him in his arms and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “It feels like I have finally achieved something! Now congratulations are due for you as well.”

“What for?” Sherlock asked, waggling his brows, “I don’t think I have achieved anything of late. At least nothing different has happened, no deviations to my routine. I have been working and having sex with you every night, yeah, that’s about all.”

“You wicked little thing. But I don’t blame you for not knowing because the news came to me first. My accountant called and said your company broke even today. From tomorrow all the business you do will rake in the profits. Just two years and such a curve, that’s unbelievable!”

“Wow! In other words I will be earning real money from that business! My salary isn’t too high from the job that I do but combined with the profits….. Maybe I can actually pay for our holiday later this year.”

“Sherl, you already have ten billion. You can pay for anything. You can take the whole country on a holiday if you so wish.”

Sherlock was about to open his mouth and argue but he decided against it. He knew just how much John hated it when he didn’t consider their combined wealth, or the money John had bequeathed to him, as his own. “You are right,” he said with a knowing smile, “It’s my money too. But you know what I mean…. I was talking about something that I have worked for and earned on my own.”

They entered the den and settled down and Sherlock put his long legs over John’s lap. “So then,” John began, casting a side eye at his partner of two years, “Now I have my surgeon’s license, I start work soon and you have done well with your startup. We have no further excuses to not get married soon. Shall we set a date and chalk up a guest list? Or we set the date and my sister chooses the guests?”

“Second option,” Sherlock winked, taking off his socks, “So Doc, this time you want a real bridegroom eh? Didn’t like the one you had on hire?”

John grinned and rubbed at Sherlock’s bare ankles, “Well, what can I say? The bridegroom I had once hired has now hijacked me for life. But it’s a situation that I wouldn’t change ever, not even for a single day.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes Mycroft and Sherlock are brothers. No, they are no longer in touch in this story. Sherlock is using his mummy's maiden name 'Bouffler' for a reason. We shall see in the future why he does so!


End file.
